


The Red String of Fate

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dramione Is Endgame, F/M, Friends to Lovers trope, High School AU, Muggle AU, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 83,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. Draco Malfoy has been the best friend of Hermione Granger since they were born. And he knows everything about her, except that he didn't fully understand he was in love with her until she started dating Ron Weasley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory long author’s note because I’m genuinely so excited to start this project. I’m not a patient person, so while I did plot out this story nearly to the end, I haven’t written it all yet. So it’s my hope that people are willing to follow as I write. I wanted to see a muggle AU set in present day, with cell phones, etc, so I wrote one. That being said, the story itself begins in 2017. It wouldn’t have come about as well as I think it did without Christina, who is my alpha, and also a dear friend. 
> 
> There is an aesthetic on my Tumblr that I’m pretty proud of. You’ll find me under mrsren96 if you’d like to! 
> 
> Lastly, I can’t let you go into the story without some sort of warning due to triggers. Attempted rape and assault being the trigger. It’s not Draco as the bad guy. Far from it in this story. And while angst is a part of this story, it will not be the entire thing.

****  
  


The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. 

 

Chapter One

  
  


* * *

 

Draco Malfoy had the annoying tendency of being right. 

 

He’d told her that Cormac McLaggen wasn’t anyone she should involve herself with, but she’d dated the boy in secret anyway. She’d sat at their table in the cafeteria and lied to the faces of the friends she’d gone through her childhood with. They hadn’t had a clue; she’d never lied to them before. 

 

“Get off of me.” Hermione yelled, swinging her right fist wildly, but she didn’t land a hit. The boy above her grunted, moving the pin her wrists down. “No!” A scream tore from her throat as she wiggled beneath him, kicking at his kneecaps and attempting to knee him in the groin. 

 

“Bitch.” he hissed, taking both of her wrists in one hand. Her eyes widened as his hand raised, and she flinched the second before he hit her. It was a resounding smack in the otherwise quiet room. “Stay still.” 

 

Hermione’s knee landed hard against his groin, and his grip on her loosened. She lunged to the side, ignoring what would happen if she didn’t find a way out from under him and out of his house. She went through it quickly in her head, coming to the conclusion that if she could get outside, the neighbors would hear her screams. 

 

She swiped the lamp from his bedside table, twisting up and slamming the heavy weight of the bottom into the side of his face. A second passed where she was still, waiting to see if he went down, but it was a second wasted. He didn’t crumple before her and she took three strides across the room to throw the bedroom door open. 

 

Hermione sprinted for the stairs, putting her hand on the banister. She’d taken three steps before his arm came around her throat, pressing down until she choked. “Let me go.” she gasped. 

 

“So you can run to Malfoy crying, and his dad makes sure I’m arrested? Not a chance.” His words were rough in her ear, slurred from the alcohol he’d consumed. 

 

She should have known drinking, even the small amount she’d had, with him alone was a horrible idea. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, tears stinging as they came to her. She’d known it was a bad idea; that’s why she’d seen him in secret in the first place. 

 

“You wouldn’t need to be arrested if you weren’t trying to rape me.” She spit the words, clawing at his arm, but he was far too strong to break free of. Hermione forced herself to look at him, to see the rabid look in his eyes, the cruel curl of his bottom lip.

 

“You’ll enjoy it.” His lips ghosted against the exposed skin of her neck, and she screamed. Facing the bottom of the stairs, she bit her lip and weighed the options. 

 

Maybe it would give her the smallest window to make it out the front door. From where they would land, it would take perhaps six seconds to reach it, another three if she had to unlock the door. 

 

Another five seconds if her fingers didn’t stop trembling. 

 

Hermione turned to look at him, glaring at him as if panic was sinking its claws into her and as if she weren’t mere moments from throwing up. “You’re going to regret this.” She hissed, and put all of her weight forward, throwing herself down the stairs, leaving him no chance to let go as he went with her. 

 

His body was heavy against hers as she slammed into the wooden stairs first. 

 

The pain was explosive, the edge of the stairs cutting into her side, and she found it was harder to breathe. A rib was sure to be fractured, if not broken. It would have to be dealt with later, whenever she got the hell out of this house. 

 

But she had to get out first, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to. 

 

Cormac landed on his side, his left wrist twisted painfully. She rolled onto the side that wasn’t aching, using the banister to climb to her feet. 

 

Hermione rung her hands, as if it would stop the trembling as she risked a look over her shoulder. He was still on his side, cradling the wrist that had been broken at a severe angle. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t move.” she hissed, grabbing her bag from beside the door. 

 

Her steps were hasty as she moved backwards, keeping her eyes trained on him as she made her way backwards to the front door. Her eyes shot open as he rolled onto his belly, one hand beneath him as he pushed himself up. Dread coiled in her stomach. 

 

She threw the door open, hearing glass break from the force against the wall. Hermione ran down the stairs, screaming as loudly as she could, hoping the elderly couple next door hadn’t gone to sleep at eight o'clock. “Help!” she screamed, her heart clenching as she heard his footsteps behind her. 

 

In a split second decision she imagined she’d regret if she got the chance, Hermione didn’t rush for the gate. It was locked, and with Cormac right on her she’d never be able to let herself out. So she screamed like her life depended on it, throwing her bag over the metal gate before she got close, and partly to rid herself of the weight.  

 

Between her shallow breaths, and the seconds that seemed to slow down, Hermione tried to talk herself into it. She and Draco had done this all the time as children. The two of them gaining a running start and attempting to jump fences. He’d always cleared the jump, always landed on his feet, and typically broke her fall as quickly as he could manage. 

 

“Someone, help me!” The door of neighboring house slammed open as she grabbed the slippery, metal railing, jumping to the best of her ability. 

 

She wasn’t surprised when he caught her by the ankle. 

 

Pain laced through her, tearing down her spine as if her back had been split open. “Get the hell off of me, you arsehole!” Hermione writhed, though she tried not to as a metal spike of the gate was slicing through her flesh. “Stupid, stupid, bastard.” she screamed, kicking at his jaw and watching him stumble. 

 

Enemy hands slipped from her ankles, her shoes already on the ground from the struggle. Her eyes drooped as she watched McLaggen set out for his front door, panic etched into his features.

 

“Call 999.” It was the older man from the neighboring house, yelling to his wife who stood on the porch. Calloused hands gripped her carefully, as her head lolled to the side to see the older woman of the house next door rushing inside, in a robe she’d haphazardly thrown over herself. “Easy does it.” His voice was gentle as he picked her up, raising her over the fence and bringing her to slump into the curve of his body. 

 

He smelled of sandalwood, as he slipped his black coat from one side, shifting Hermione so he could remove the other side. “Arms around my neck. Need to lie you down until an ambulance in here.” 

 

She nodded, her vision blurry from the stinging tears as she latched onto the one life line she had in the moment, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Down we go. You’ve got quite the grip there, little girl.” 

 

Her laugh came out as a sob as she looked up at him, and the rain falling from the darkened sky. “Who do I need to call? Your parents? Friends?” 

 

“My phone is in my bag.” She managed. “My Dad is in my contacts.” 

 

“Tell me who you want me to contact for you after him.” he whispered, closing her coat around her frame as he watched his wife from the porch. 

 

“After him, Lucius, Draco, and Harry.” she paused, wincing and curling her hand into a fist. “Please, please, get ahold of Draco. If he doesn’t answer, Harry will find him.” 

 

She knew in the back of her mind he wouldn’t have his phone on him. He’d complained about it earlier that day, how his girlfriend was likely to hide his phone from him; it was their six month anniversary, she said, and there couldn’t be any interruptions. 

 

“Anyone else?” She wanted to thank him for keeping her busy, making her avoid the fact that she was bleeding on a sidewalk due to her own choices. 

 

“No,” Hermione shivered. “Draco would tell our friends.” The older man nodded, slipping his rough hand into the coat, and holding her hand while glaring into the house he sat in front of. “I’m Hermione Granger.” she offered, and saw a light go off in his eyes, and watching the slow smile curl over his lips. 

 

“I’m Henry, Miss Granger, and you’re going to be just fine.” She nodded, staying close to him as she lifted one weak hand to unlock the phone with her thumb. 

 

* * *

 

 

If you were to ask Harry Potter to describe Hermione Granger, he would have told you she was brilliant, so brilliant that she struck fear into him on occasion. He might mention how she’d been a bit of a recluse since her mother died. 

 

No, that wasn’t correct. To say someone has simply ‘died’ would draw the conclusion of a simple, but tragic end. Perhaps a car accident, or an illness one could not recover from. Hermione had pointed that out to their group of friends once: that her mother had not simply died. She had been killed, murdered- her voice always hardened on the filthy word, her eyes beginning to water. 

 

He knew what went through her mind. Try as she might, she was easy to read to those who’d known them since they were in nappies, and he’d been there. As had Draco, and later Theo. 

 

But as he received a call from her cell phone at eight o'clock at night, from a stranger no less, Harry would have told you two words. 

 

Bloody reckless. 

 

Theo eyed him, his fingers enclosed around his glass that sat on the island of the Potters’ kitchen. The boy didn’t breathe as Harry set the phone on the counter, turning on the speaker and hushing Theo with a finger pressed to his lips. 

 

“An ambulance is on its way.” The rain was loud in the speaker as it poured in the background. “Miss Granger asked me to call her father, and to call a man named Lucius, but they were unable to answer. Nor was this Draco that she’s crying for.” The words were not unkind. 

 

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked at Theo, the other boy’s expression matching his own. In the background, though it was faint, they could hear Hermione’s sobs. It was a broken strain of the name he heard her say on a daily, perhaps hourly, basis. 

 

She’d never sounded broken, not after her mother was murdered in cold blood, or the guilt she put on her shoulders. 

 

“I know where he is. Please tell Hermione I will bring him straight to her.” Harry replied, looking at his knuckles that had grown white as he clenched his fists.

 

“Of course. If you could locate her father, and this Lucius, I would greatly appreciate it. I’d like to know she’s being surrounded by her loved ones.” His words were masked by the sound of approaching sirens. 

 

“Him..to..” 

 

“Shh, dear. Don’t strain yourself.” Henry replied, his attention diverting back to her for a moment. “She’s asked you to bring her a change of clothes. Hers are likely ruined. She won’t say it, but she’s feeling very exposed.” 

 

Anger went through Harry as his eyes narrowed. “I will. Do you know which hospital they will take her to?” 

 

“St. Mungos would be the closest.” he replied. “Thank you, Harry.” It was amidst the shouting of what he could only guess was emergency responders that the line disconnected. 

 

Harry looked at his friend in silence, his mouth set in a flat, grim line. “I can’t believe she saw that bastard!” Theo exploded, his fist slamming down on the counter, the glass above it tipping and spilling. “I know, I know, it’s not her fault. I, just, Draco told her he was a right bastard.” 

 

“She’s,” Harry sighed. “I don’t bloody know what she was doing. Hermione’s Dad is out of town this weekend, but Mr. Malfoy will be at working late. Can you tell him while I go to Pansy’s?” 

 

Theo nodded, “Draco and that witch both will have a heart attack once you barge in there. I don’t envy you at all.” Harry slid off of the barstool, grabbing his coat and keys from the rack by the hallway. 

 

“I don’t give a damn about Pansy’s feelings. Draco is going to kill Cormac McLaggen.” Harry waved to his mother who leaned in the doorway, worry over her face. 

 

“Good thing his father is a barrister then.” Theo countered, setting the glass he’d tipped over in the sink. “Sorry, Mrs. Potter.” 

 

She waved him off “You call me once you learn anything about Hermione, do you understand?” Her son winced under the fierce glare she’d thrown his way. 

 

Harry nodded, turning on his heel and walking down the hallway with Theo Nott seconds behind him. 

* * *

 

 

She threw her front door open, her eyes already narrowed as if she’d anticipated an interruption. “Oh, no. Not tonight.” Pansy hissed, moving the slam the door in his face. “You can talk to Draco tomorrow!” 

 

Harry’s foot shot out, as did his hand as he shoved past her. “I’ll talk to you him now, you bint.” The blond was relaxed on the couch, a small dog nestled in his lap and his arms thrown over the back of it. Gray eyes stared back at him, his eyes flicking to the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “Hermione is in the hospital.” 

 

“ _ What _ ?” Draco snapped, standing too quickly, and the dog tumbled to the floor accidentally. “What happened?” There was an urgency in his voice, the not so subtle emotions that had his girlfriend folding her arms across her chest. “Was there a car wreck? Was she driving in the rain?” His words were jumbling together while Harry shook his head. “Then fucking tell me what’s happened to her!” 

 

Pansy flinched at his voice, the way it sounded between a snarl and a growl. “She’ll still be there tomorrow. You can see her tomorrow.” she said quietly. 

 

Draco glared at her, shaking his head. “Tell me, or I swear to God,” 

 

“She lied to us, mate.” Harry began. “You told her McLaggen was a bastard and you were right.” He choked on his saliva, his eyes widening at the revelation as the facts slowly sunk in. “She was with him tonight. I don’t know much right now. Hermione couldn’t talk to me. It was a neighbor that stayed with her until help arrived.” 

 

“Why would he need to attack her? It doesn’t make sense. Didn’t you learn anything else?” Draco grabbed his jacket from the back of the armchair it had been thrown over. “Is she okay?” 

 

Harry’s head shook slowly. “I’m sorry. He didn’t tell me her injuries, but she lost quite a bit of blood. And you and I both know McLaggen is only interested in one thing.” 

 

“She would have never said yes to him.” Draco growled, shoving his arms through his sleeves. “She could have called me though. I’d have already been at the hospital.” 

 

“Hermione had that old man call you at least a dozen times and you never answered.” 

 

“What? That’s not possible.” His voice finally cracked as he fumbled for his phone in his jacket pockets. “I had it all night,” Draco’s voice came to a halt as he stared at the screen, pressing the power button, but was still met with the same black screen. “You turned my phone off, didn’t you?” he hissed, storming towards the girl who took two quick steps backwards.

 

“You’re always on your stupid phone and it’s always her! Can’t we have one night where you’re not focused on your ‘best friend’?” Draco didn’t say a word as he motioned for Harry to lead the way. 

 

“You drive? I didn’t drive here tonight.” 

 

“Yeah, they’re taking her to St. Mungo’s.” Harry replied, cheerfully shooting an obscene gesture at the girl they left in their wake. 

 

“Draco Malfoy, if you walk out that door, we’re done! Do you understand me?” 

 

Draco looked over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the door knob tightly. “Like crystal.” he hissed, letting the sound of the slamming door say everything else. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently had this marked as completed, so that might be why so many people saw it. Anyways, no it's not completed. You don't get off that easy, it's actually shaping up to be pretty long from the outline. So, I update as I write, and as my alpha reviews it. This was already done, so I'm gonna go ahead and post. :)

Chapte r Two   
  


* * *

 

The hopeful look on her face fell as the door opened and Theo stepped through the doorway. “You scared the hell out of us, you brat.” he hissed at her, coming round the bed and laying a hoodie and joggers across her lap. “Draco left it in my car.” 

 

She nodded silently, biting her lip. “I’m sorry.” 

 

He just sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Draco and Harry are on their way up from the parking lot. Mr. Malfoy is out in the hallway. Poor nurse doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.” her lips tilted into a small smile. “Can you change?” 

 

“I think so.” she murmured. “Can you help me up though?” Theo pulled the blankets down, his eyes narrowing on the dark bruises already forming on her legs. “Not a word, not yet.” Hermione whispered.

 

“You know Malfoy’s going to destroy him, right?” 

 

“Which one?” Hermione offered, smiling when he chuckled. “I know.” She held her arm out, letting him haul her to her feet. “Turn around.” she snapped as he was hesitant to let go of her. “There’s nothing under this robe.” 

 

It was a struggle to slip the joggers on, having to bend down and push her legs through. Theo moved, nearly turning when the third whimper slipped between her lips. “Are you sure you can dress yourself? There’s a nurse in the hallway.” 

 

“I’m fine.” she replied, slipping her hands into the sleeves of the Hogwarts hoodie. “I’m more worried about stitches catching on the fabric.” Hermione froze as the shouting from the hallway bled through the paper thin walls of the hospital. 

 

“I don’t care if someone is in there or not; you’re not going to stop me from seeing her.” It was unmistakably Draco’s voice that was dripping acid. “Sod off!” 

 

Hermione flinched at the sounds to follow: it must have been a nurse’s cart being shoved by him, and then the hospital door was pushed open. She didn’t risk to look over her shoulder, to see his face contort in anger as he took in the ugly wound on her back that would scar. 

 

“I’m going to kill that prick.” He growled. 

 

“Don’t start.” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut. “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, you know.” 

 

“That bastard is going to be more than blind when I get my hands on him.” Draco’s words sent a shiver down her spine as she attempted to pull the hoodie over her head. “Do you need help?” he grumbled under his breath as she shook her head. “So fucking stubborn.” 

 

“Don’t you dare come over here! I’m not wearing a bra and I can’t be seen,” her voice cracked in a sob on the words that wouldn’t come out. “I can’t, I don’t want anyone to see me without clothes.” 

 

There was a heavy silence. She knew Theo hadn’t turned to look at the awful stitches covered the skin over her spine, or that Harry had to be close, probably lingering in the hall. She held her breath as footsteps neared her, and she could feel the heat of his body so close to hers. The proximity made bile rise in her throat, and her fingers trembled. 

 

“I’m behind you.” he told her quietly. “I’m not going to look at you besides the back of your head. I’m not going to touch your skin, Hermione. Understand?” At her nod, he took hold of the hem of his hoodie, drawing it over her head. “Stay still. I have to look at your stitches so they don’t get caught in the fabric.” 

 

“I trust you.” Hermione choked. “For the love of God, please don’t accidentally touch me.” 

 

“Don’t move.” He told her, reaching around to grab the front hem, sliding it over her chest and down her stomach. “I’m sorry it’s not what you want, but you couldn’t have dressed yourself.’ 

 

“I didn’t want anyone to touch me anymore.” Hermione told him, turning on her heel and shoving both of her hands into the front pocket. “I can’t get it out of my head, him grabbing me, hitting me, I can’t.” 

 

“You will.” His voice wasn’t unkind, but there was no warmth as he took her in, her eye that was already bruising. “I won’t touch you.” Draco reassured her, showing his hands and stepping backwards. “What were you thinking?” 

 

“I don’t know.” Hermione admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You can turn around, Theo.” While Draco stood in front of her, his arms folded, Theo took a seat at the foot of the bed. “We were having fun, and then,” 

 

Draco cut her off. “Why would you lie to me? You told me you weren’t going to see him again.” He watched her impatiently, while she laced her fingers together inside of the pocket. 

 

“And he hadn’t done anything like this when you jumped down my throat!” Hermione shot back. “You just didn’t like him because he never sticks with one girl. Which is something you’ve done as well, if I remember correctly.” 

 

He glared at her. “I told you he was a bastard and I didn’t trust him. This is why. McLaggen wanted something so he decided he could just take it from you.” 

 

“Malfoy, watch it.” Theo spoke, his eyes darting between the two. “Now isn’t the time to tell her she was wrong. None of this is her fault.” 

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Draco hissed. “I’m not here to tell you I told you so, Granger. But the fact is that you’ve been putting yourself in harms way ever since your mom died because you think it’s your fault! You would have never been with him if you weren’t trying to get out of your own head, and look where it got you.” he seethed. “In a sodding hospital with over two dozen stitches.” 

 

Hermione didn’t say a word as her cheeks heated up. She took in his appearance, his hair that was all sorts of out of place from sprinting into the hospital. She looked over his knuckles that were turning purple. “You punched the dashboard of the car, didn’t you?” murmured Hermione. “Get the hell out.” 

 

He faltered, his furious expression slipping from his face. “You can’t,” 

 

“I can. I want you to get out.” Draco didn’t move as she forced herself to her feet. “You had no right to bring my mother into this, none at all.” Hermione recognized the cruel look his eyes took as she shoved him weakly, palms flat on his chest. 

 

“If you’re so upset your pushed your mother away, maybe you shouldn’t push away someone who cares about you.” Draco spat. “At least you had time with your mother. Mine died before I could know her.” 

 

From the bed, Theo muttered a curse, heading towards the door in a fluid movement. 

 

“I know you don’t mean that.” Hermione slapped him as hard as she could. His hand jerked to pry her away by his wrist, but he froze. 

 

“I said I wouldn’t touch you.” he muttered. 

 

“Well, it’s too bad you didn’t promise to never hurt me.” She wiped the beginnings of tears away with the back of her hand. “You didn’t mean it, but you should have never said it.” 

 

“Draco, wait in the hallway.” Came the hard voice of Lucius Malfoy, who took long strides across the room to grab his only son by his shoulder. “It wasn’t a request.” Draco shrugged him off, knocking his father’s hand away. “Have a seat, Hermione.” Lucius shut the door behind his son’s retreating figure, cutting off whatever words he’d been about to say. 

 

She nestled into the uncomfortable pillows in the bed, and into the itchy sheets. “How much did you hear?’ 

 

‘I heard what he said about Jean, and Narcissa.” He dragged the chair to her bedside, the legs screeching against the tile. “He shouldn’t have been so cruel to you.” She nodded quietly, waiting for him to speak. “I’ve called Frank. He’ll be here some time after one am.” 

 

“Did you tell him I’m okay?” 

 

“I told him what the nurse told me, which leads us all to believe you certainly are not okay.” Hermione watched him as she brought her knees to her chest. “Wounds are not only physical, Hermione.” 

 

“I don’t want your advice. I messed up when I went to his house. Draco was right; none of this would have never happened if I weren’t trying to punish myself.” 

 

“Stop,” he cut her off, waving his hand. “You did not mess up, as you put it. You had no idea this Cormac McLaggen,” Hermione winced. “Was going to pressure you. And I did not promise my best friend, your mother, that I would watch you grow so you could blame yourself for the actions of an animal.” 

 

“I kissed him back, you know.” she started, but she didn’t believe the words she was about to say at all. 

 

“Can you walk me through it then, Hermione? You say he kissed you, and you kissed him back, correct?” He had the same gray eyes as his son, and they were dark, threatening. 

 

“Yes,” whispered Hermione. “He moved his hand up my thigh. I didn’t like it.” 

 

“Then you said no.” Lucius ventured, watching her nod weakly. “That makes it attempted rape. You were clear in your refusal.” 

 

“I hit him over the head with a lamp.” she offered grimly. “So I would say I was clear. Do I have to walk you through this? It’s hard to believe it’s happened, much less describe it.” 

 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you think you should do?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You’ve been locking all your emotions away, your anger, your sadness, your guilt. Is this something you want to lock away?” Her bottom lip quivered. “It’s going to eat at you. Let’s ignore what happens if you press charges on this boy.” 

 

“It will hurt to talk about it.” He remained silent. “I love you like my father, I do, but I can’t talk to you about this. Will you get Draco?” 

 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Will the two of you remain civil?” Hermione nodded. “I know I’ve basically pushed you into talking about this, but-”

 

“But it’s my choice still, unless I want him to simply get away with it, right?” 

 

“What the neighbor saw will prevent that. It’s assault.” She nodded, watching him rise from the chair and slip out of the door. Hermione barely heard him whisper outside the door before her closest friend stepped inside. 

 

“Hey.” she said weakly, waving at him. The lock clicked behind him, but he didn’t move from his spot against the wall. “Will you stay? I don’t want to be alone.” 

 

“You know I will.” He unfolded his arms, making his way towards the chair that his father had moved. 

 

“No.” muttered Hermione. “Will you lay in the bed?” He froze, his fingers curled around the back of the chair. Blond strands fell into eyes as he shook his head. 

 

“It’s not a good idea. You’re in shock, and if you wake up to find me in the bed with you, you’ll,” She looked down at her feet, wishing she didn’t feel quite so damaged. “Why?” Draco cleared his throat. 

 

“I’m scared.” she admitted. “I’ve never felt like this. I’m afraid he’ll get his hands on me again, and that he’ll-” Hermione cut herself off. “I can’t even say the word, Draco.” He came around the other side, bending over the bed, bunching the blankets together and tucking them against her body as if he were creating a wall. “What are you doing?” 

 

“If I’m going to be here, I don’t want to touch you by mistake.” he muttered, groaning when her eyes filled with tears. Hermione shuffled to the edge of the bed, her back pressed against the railing. He kicked his shoes off, climbing into the bed with her, laying his head on the shared pillow. “I said a shitty thing to you earlier.” 

 

“You did.” she paused. “I lied to you, and you were right.” 

 

He shook his head. “Don’t. I blamed you. It was wrong; I was in the wrong.” Hermione reached over to brush his hair out of his eyes, muttering he needed to trim his hair. He laughed, low and unevenly under his breath. “He’s not coming back. McLaggen won’t get the chance to hurt you.” 

 

“How can you possibly know that? You’re protective, I know, but we’re not always together.” 

 

“Then I guess I’ll have to be there constantly. Consider it a never ending sleep over; you can move your belongings tomorrow.” 

 

Hermione laughed. She didn’t bother to point out that she didn’t need to. Through the years of growing up, she’d left too many shirts, or her other possessions at his house. “Why would I move? Why do I have to come to you?” 

 

“Isn’t it obvious, Granger? My house is better.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re biting your lip. What’s on your mind?” 

 

“I think I want to talk about it, try to get it out.” He froze, his eyes sweeping over her. “I couldn’t tell your dad and I don’t have to if you’d rather not listen. I suppose it would be horrifying to hear me recount. More so than just hearing about it.” 

 

“I’m always the first to tell you to spill your guts, but will this hurt you more? It’s been two hours since you got here; don’t make any rash decisions. Stop laughing.” 

 

“Have you met me? Hi, I’m Hermione Granger, and my middle name is rash.” 

 

His nose crinkled while he scoffed. “Well, Miss Granger, that’s highly unfortunate.” She smacked his chest, laughing altogether too loudly. “Keep your voice down. This is a hospital.” He chastised. “I’ll do whatever you want, whether it’s for me to listen, or lay here until you fall asleep.” 

 

“Both of those,” replied Hermione. “Preferably in that order.” She watched him lay on his side, and prop his head up. “It happened so quickly, I’m still surprised I can remember any of it at all.” 

 

“They say more details will come back to you.” 

 

“I can remember up until I snagged myself on the fence, and he was trying to pull me back towards him. It’s a bit confusing afterwards. I remember the neighbor, Henry. He laid me on his coat and stayed with me until paramedics arrived.” 

 

“He was just leaving the hospital when Theo and I walked inside. It was lucky he was there.” 

 

“I was screaming for help.” she told him. “Cormac and I were sitting on his bed. His parents had gone out to see a play, I don’t remember which one. He had gotten into his father’s scotch and was drinking more than he should have been. I didn’t drink much, but he kissed me. It was fine; he’d kissed me before so I reciprocated. And then he started to drag his hand,” Hermione broke off. “Here.” she muttered, reaching over and placing her palm flat on Draco’s inner thigh. “I can’t say it.” 

 

He nodded. “I’ll spare you the whole movement, but his hand ended at my,” She looked at him, at the edge of throwing herself into his chest and sobbing, and continuing. 

 

“You don’t have to say that. I understand. His hand was between..?” She nodded, dropping her hand from his thigh. 

 

“I told him no immediately. I didn’t want to have sex with him. I don’t think I ever want to have sex with anyone now. He smacked me first, and then he punched me. He was trying to pin me down. I tried to knee him, tried to get out from under him, but there wasn’t much of a chance. He’s so much stronger than me.” 

 

“You did get away though.” 

 

“I hit him over the head with the lamp on the bedside table. He’ll be sporting a nasty bruise I’m sure, and I ran for the stairs. He caught me, and had his arm around my throat, choking me. I can’t remember if I told him to let me go, but I do remember clearly he said, ‘So you can cry to Malfoy and his father can have me arrested?’” 

 

His knuckles were white. “And there was no other way out. He was choking me. So, I threw us down the stairs.” Draco’s eyes widened. “My back is stitched up because of the fence, but my ribs were hurt because the only chance to get away was to try to break his grip on me. He broke something, I can’t remember what now. I ran for the door, I grabbed my bag, and thinking back now, what the hell was I thinking. It was only slowing me down.

 

“I ran for the fence because the gate was locked and I didn’t think I’d be able to unlock it with him behind me. I was screaming for help, just trying to get someone’s attention. I was thinking of you then, you know.” 

 

He cleared his throat, and she finally actually looked at him. His eyes were misty, though he’d never admit it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been. Pansy turned my phone off and I had no idea.” 

 

Hermione shook her head, reaching out to him slowly, setting her hand on his still curled fist. Draco unwound just as slowly, as though he didn’t want to frighten her, until she was able to lace her fingers through his. “I thought about how we used to jump fences when we were children, and how I never made it.” 

 

There was a strangled sound low in his throat. “I jumped, I got caught on the fence, and he tried to drag me back down. Henry was there, and yelling for his wife to call 999. He asked me who to call, and I told him my father, your father, yourself, and Harry.” 

 

“Potter said you were crying for me.” She flushed at his barely there question. Hermione nodded. “Bloody hell, I could kill Pansy.” 

 

“I forgot you had plans tonight. Plans beyond going to her house and shagging her, I mean. I forgot about the date she wanted. I’m sure she’s pissed at me, but you can tell her I’m not sorry.” 

 

“Tell her yourself.” Hermione tilted her head to the side. “She said you would still be in the hospital tomorrow and that if I left, she was dumping me.” He shrugged. “I’m not upset about it; her six month anniversary was over the top.” 

 

“Happy six months to shagging that witch.” she joked. “Thank you.” Hermione spoke quietly. Draco squeezed her hand. “Could you stay awake until I fall asleep?” 

 

“Of course. Would you like to me move once you are?” She shook her head, her grip tightening on him. “Okay, okay, for fucks sake, don’t break my hand.” 

 

“You’re in the perfect place.” murmured Hermione. “I’m so tired.” 

 

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” She closed her eyes, a tear rolling down his face that he reached over to wipe away. She froze, before relaxing once more. “It won’t last forever.” he whispered, watching the rise and fall of her chest. 

 

Hermione kept their hands entwined as they had once upon a time when they were children. 

 

Looking down at her, her skin pale, save for around her eyes where they were still puffy, he found he couldn’t have let go of her for anything. And after she fell asleep and scooted closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, he sighed in contentment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a supremely shitty day yesterday and everyone who subbed, commented, or left kudos made my entire day. I was so excited to upload this because I love it, and nervous because I really hope everyone else does as well. 
> 
> AND, please let me know what you think. Christina almost cried, and that kind of sends me on a power trip. Until next time!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter deals with a great deal of the past, and setting up the story and the emotional fallout that Hermione is going through/has been going through since her mother was murdered. A few things, Jean Granger’s murder is not a focus of this story besides the toll it takes on Hermione; there are no criminal elements that will be detailed beyond Hermione’s own assault.  
> Jean and Lucius were/are barristers. Christina brit picks things for me, but I apologize because last chapter I got too excited and forgot to change ‘mom’ to ‘mum’.  
> I know what the summary says, but given the fact that Hermione was just assaulted, there’s a way to go before she becomes anything with Ron. And, if you know me at all, I don’t make it easy for people to get together. Lol.

 

 

**July 2017**

 

She hadn’t spoken since they had left his office, him grumbling that there wouldn’t be a decent restaurant open at this hour. “Lucius, you are a grown man. Why don’t you make dinner at home? Do you feed Draco take aways constantly as well?” Her lips curved into a smile as he glared down at her. 

 

“He’s staying at Hermione’s tonight.” he answered, wincing at the way the woman’s face fell. 

 

“Oh, well, she’ll enjoy his company, won’t she?” Jean had overcome her habit to let her bottom lip tremble when her daughter was mentioned. She’d not had a choice, and the blame was solely on her shoulders. “Do you recall the day Hermione tried to teach him how to cook?” 

 

“He nearly burned the house down. I thought that smell would never go away.” She laughed; it was a broken, breathless laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “All she said was to boil water.” 

 

“Draco didn’t mess up that badly.” she scolded him, swatting his arm. “You should really let that go. The pair of them were twelve.” 

 

“Jean,” he snapped, without venom in his voice. “They were young, yes. Hermione gave him simple instructions. Put it in a pan with water and then put it on the stovetop.” He mimicked the young girl’s voice in an attempt to wipe the somber look from her counterpart’s face. “Except my son forgot to put the water in the pot.” 

 

She snickered, shuffling to pull her keys from her handbag as they neared their cars. “They’ll have a million stories to tell their kids one day.” Lucius arched an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look. You’re the one who has prayed it would happen since Hermione shoved him down the stairs.” 

 

“Even as a three year old, she knew Draco was a prick. He’ll need someone like that in his life.” She didn’t make the usual comment of how she could still be a part of his life, as his friend. The fact would fall on deaf ears anyways. “Get in your car.” his voice was hard as he pressed his hand to the small of her back, shoving her towards the sedan. “Now, Jean.” 

 

She stumbled, snapping the heel on the cheap pair of shoes she’d grabbed this morning after the alarm didn’t go off. The shots were quick, a warning-

 

-More of a taunt really. 

 

She understood what was happening, even as her body moved on its own accord. “Lucius, down!” The scream was raw; something he’d wish he could forget, but he already knew it would echo in his nightmares. Jean latched onto his hand, curling her fingers through the spaces between his, hauling him to the concrete in one hard movement. 

 

He was silent as he pressed her against the car, his heart thudding in his chest. Her fingers curled in his shirt, her nails digging into the thin shirt. There would be marks, they would turn to bruises, and if his fears became reality, it would be the only thing he had left of the first friend he’d had in his life. 

 

“Stop.” she hissed, clawing at him. “This won’t work, Lucius.” she told him flatly, listening to the sound of the suburban approaching. “It’s what this gang does.” He looked down at her before peeking his head up to peer through the tinted windows of her car. “Tom Riddle did make me a promise.” 

 

Lucius grabbed her keys from her hand, moving to unlock her car door. “Crawl inside.” he tells her, his lips flattening when she shakes her head. “I am not going to let Tom Riddle execute you from prison.” 

 

“I will not let  _ you _ be a human shield for me.” she whispers, leaning up to press her lips against his jaw. “You’re my oldest friend, Lucius. This cannot happen how you want.” 

 

“Hermione,” 

 

“Has Draco, her father, and you. They’ve lost their mothers.” Jean says, flinching as another shot rings out. She knew how they operated, firing, wasting illegal ammo as they neared her, saturating her in her own fear. 

 

But she would not drown in it. 

 

“So, please, take care of my daughter like she was your own, and help my ex-husband.” He stared at her, shaking his head, his grip becoming tighter on her hand. “They’re not going to kill you, and you know that. Riddle wants you to hurt by taking those you love from you.” He could only nod, confronted with the facts. “I love you.” she whimpered. “In the most platonic way.” 

 

He choked on a laugh, that was caught in his throat. “I love you too.” he muttered. “Like an annoying younger sister.” 

 

“Best sister you ever had.” Jean shot back. 

 

“The  _ only _ sister I ever had.” 

* * *

 

“You can’t just take the remote because you’re older, Malfoy. That’s not how this works!” Hermione snapped, lunging across the couch and grappling at the black remote in his hand. “We agreed that I would pick tonight, prat.” 

 

“It’s a cop show. They’re all the same. Once you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen them all.” He rolled his eyes, rolling her off his lap and into the floor. “What are you going to do? Jump for it?” Draco teased, springing to his feet, dangling the remote high over her head. 

 

“Will you ever grow up?” she grumbled. “If you’re older, shouldn’t you be more mature?” 

 

He mocked her stance, mirroring her by putting his hands on his hips. “Don’t girls’ brains develop sooner?” He paused, faltering at the slow smirk that spread over her face. “Okay, that’s not what I meant.” 

 

“Really? I’m quite certain you just said I’m smarter than you. Since I’m a girl and my brain matures faster than yours.” 

 

Their bickering was cut short by glass shattering on the tile of the hallway. “Hermione.” Draco trailed off, his hand coming down to his side. 

 

She saw the emergency lights in the reflection of his eyes, the harsh contrast against the grey. Hermione moved before he did, climbing over the couch instead of taking the second to walk around and sprinted for the entryway. 

 

Her father swayed in the door frame, his hand covering his mouth, his fingers trembling. “Dad?” asked Hermione. He said nothing, only moved aside as Lucius Malfoy walked into their home. Her eyes shot open as she took him in, Draco coming up behind her, his chest nearly to her back. “Are you hurt?” she hurriedly asked. 

 

He looked tired, his face paler than she’d ever seen and his eyes lifeless. Draco’s breath caught as he shrugged off his jacket, exposing the stains of scarlet across his chest, a dark stain against the white oxford. “Dad?” Draco’s voice suddenly seemed far away as Lucius turned towards her, fishing something out of his pocket. “Whose blood is that?” 

 

She vaguely realized that Draco’s voice wasn’t quiet at all; she was in shock as Lucius lifted his hand, a small, dainty white gold chain spiraling down from between his fingers. “No.” whispered Hermione, her eyes stinging. “Not her, anyone but her.” 

 

“What happened?” Draco was the one to break the silence as she looked towards her father who stood with a police officer. With an outstretched hand, Draco let the necklace fall into his palm, reaching down to grab her hand. 

 

She heard the words, barely as the pressure built between her ears. Her grip on his hand was hard, her nails biting into his skin as her mother’s had with Lucius hours earlier, despite her never having the need to know that. 

 

Her mother, who she had told she utterly loathed, and wished she had never known, had been gunned down on the order of the leader of a ruthless gang. Hermione had heard the name Tom Riddle in passing, from newspaper headlines all the way to the files Lucius occasionally brought home when she visited the Malfoys’. 

 

It gutted her, standing there in her own silence as if it were a cage, imagining the final moments of her mother’s life. The violence of it all, as she waited to die. She and Draco had been observant once the prosecution fell on her mother, even if she never admitted it. They had snooped through a file in the study of Lucius Malfoy, and she knew what they did. 

 

Judging from the way Draco’s eyes remained on her, he remembered just as well. That the Death Eaters were the worst sort of monsters, and her mother had been murdered in cold blood, knowing she was about to die. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Lucius told her. “I tried to keep her safe.” Hermione nodded numbly, feeling the tears that were hot against her skin. “She said she loved you.” 

 

A sob wrenched from her throat, her legs giving out from under her finally. Her best friend’s arm was around her in an instant, holding her weight. “She was talking about the two of you before she,” Lucius broke off, sealing the dirty word away. “Told me how I should let it go that you nearly burned down the house when you were twelve.” His chuckle was humorless. “She loved you so much.” 

 

Hermione’s cheeks were red as she nodded along with his words. “The necklace?” she mumbled. 

 

“Jean said you didn’t have to wear it. She would have understood why you might not.” Hermione shook her head then, eyeing Draco’s hand that hid the piece of jewelry. 

 

“Did she suffer?” 

 

He flinched as if she’d smacked him, as did the boy holding her as she gripped his hoodie. “It was nearly instant.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper over the television she’d forgotten. “I held her until she was gone.” 

 

“I’m glad.” Hermione told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and tried her hardest not to stare at the blood crusted beneath his nails. 

 

“Stay with her, Draco. The two of us,” he nodded towards her father, who was red faced and teary eyed. “Need to go to the hospital now.” 

 

“Won’t you change?” He asked his father. 

 

“I’m afraid it will make all of this real.” The man muttered, grabbing a spare jacket off the hook and leading her father out the door. 

 

She mumbled his name, her hold weakening. “She’s gone?” It was at his nod that she bursted into tears. He smoothed her hair down while she turned into him, her sobs broken. He whispered to her, telling her it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. 

 

It was later in his car, that she tried to put the necklace around her neck, but her fingers would not steady as she fumbled with the clasp. “Stop,” he muttered, pulling over on the side of the road and turning her back to him by her shoulders. “Stop being so stubborn and let me help.” She stilled while he fastened the necklace around her neck, the pendant falling against her chest. “Do you want to go somewhere?” 

 

“Could you just drive?” Hermione whispered, her eyes focused on her shoes. “Just until I fall asleep?” He nodded. 

 

He avoided the potholes, as she laid her head against the seatbelt, biding his time until she fell asleep with her makeup stained on her cheeks. 

 

She hadn’t brought it up the next morning when she’d woken in her own bed, with him sleeping on the floor. He’d always been aware when she needed the space. 

  
  


* * *

 

**September 2017**

 

She was released into the custody of her father that next morning. And when she’d woken to find him awake in the chair beside her bed, he’d told her how lucky he felt that Draco and Lucius had been close. Hermione had nodded, untangling herself from the boy she’d burrowed into, shifting the pillow beneath his head. 

 

“How do you feel?” He asked her. 

 

Hermione sat up and crossed her legs, shoving her hands into the pocket of the hoodie like she had the night before; it was quickly becoming a nervous tick she thought absently. “I don’t feel anything right now.” she murmured. 

 

The room was still dark, the sun starting to spurt from the horizon, but she could only see slivers of the sunlight through the slits of the blinds. He hadn’t turned on the lamp, but there was a book folded in his lap, and he tossed his glasses onto the table. 

 

“I have no words.” he told his daughter, watching how she flinched almost when he reached for her. “I know. Lucius told me.” 

 

“I’m not afraid of you.” she stuttered at the beginning. “You’re my Dad, I’m not,” He only shook his head. “I suppose you already know that though.” 

 

“It’s normal to feel the way you do regarding your sense of touch after this sort of trauma.” He was careful with his words, too careful, but she realized she really had no way of knowing how she would react either way. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“You’re going to stay home for a few days to let the worst of the soreness pass, and until you feel comfortable returning to Hogwarts.” 

 

“No,” Hermione snapped, and she felt Draco begin to to stir against her leg. “I’m not going to be his victim. I’m not giving him the satisfaction that he,” 

 

“Please, Hermione.” She shut her mouth, her teeth clanking together as she listened to him. “You are in shock. I want you to take the time for yourself, if only for a short time.” 

 

“Then don’t stay home from work.” Hermione said. “I understand that you would want to, but I don’t need you to sit with me until it hits me.” 

 

“Someone will be with you. I won’t leave you to a house all by yourself. Your doctor says,” 

 

“I wouldn’t kill myself.” Hermione felt Draco freeze beside her, after his initial knee jerk reaction. It didn’t come as a surprise that he was trying to fake his sleep. “I heard the doctor last night. Not much, just enough to understand that it is a real concern.” 

 

“I could stay with her.” Draco mumbled, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “If it’s all right with you.” 

 

Her father sighed. “I figured it would be something like that. Lucius had the same idea. Nonetheless I will be staying home until you can return to Hogwarts.” Hermione nodded, watching him stand to his feet and retrieve his glasses. “Well, you’ve been released since six am, so as long as you are careful of your stitches, I can take the pair of you home.” 

 

* * *

 

She was numb in the following days, sitting on her bed with her legs crossed while Draco maintained his space and either sat on the carpet, or in her chair in front of her desk. She kept her laptop in front of her, opened to Netflix while she attempted to immerse herself so she could escape her own thoughts. Hermione kept her back to him, her laptop moved where he could still see the screen if he wanted to. 

 

They didn’t talk to the other. The only physical contact she had with him was on the second night, the night he moved to sleep on the floor and she grabbed his wrist to tell him she would feel safer if he was closer. 

 

He’d dragged all the blankets from the closet in the hallway, passing Mr. Granger without a word as he left the bedroom door open a crack. He forged the same barrier he had in the twin sized hospital bed, and laid on the far edge of the bed. Not that it mattered, she clung to him in her sleep regardless. 

 

Just, the two of them didn’t mention it when it happened. 

 

She didn’t mention her fears out loud, or the way her heart hammered in her chest every time she closed her eyes and saw him barreling at her once more. 

 

The terror and the fear made her feel as if she were barely treading water. But she’d already decided she would not drown in it. 

  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

The prying eyes of her curious classmates might have been enough to make her regret returning after three short days had she not been so stubborn. The blond on her right stayed close to her, constantly looking out for the boy she feared he actually might get his hands on. 

 

From the moment they’d exited his car, she’d looked on the two story building in disdain. Really, it was the last place she wanted to be. Who knew what had happened? Did they have the entire tale mapped out for them? Her time in the hospital, the three days she’d spend in silence? Malfoy had been absent as well, a fact that would fuel the rumor mills, and would catch fire inevitably. 

 

Would she be pitied? 

 

The concept was nauseating. 

 

He slowed his stride while she struggled to keep up with him. They passed through the courtyard in front of the building, past its lavish fountain in the center that she liked to sit under and read. Her friends had a nasty habit of playing soccer among the bushes; they nearly always destroyed the hedges. 

 

And the caretaker Hagrid was never angry. 

 

Filch though, he was angry every time they did  _ anything.  _ Though it might be because Theo had chased a stray cat around the campus once, lovingly named Mrs. Norris by cranky old man. 

 

Hermione hadn’t been able to blame Filch. Theo still attempted to terrorize Crookshanks when he visited her home. 

 

Their cluster of friends were waiting for them by the library, though not inside, as Harry Potter only went in there for reasons not academic.Harry sat on the wooden bench, his elbows on his knees while a grin split across his face at the sight of them. 

 

She took in the awful picture of herself and Draco Malfoy in the clear glass panel in front of the library. Clearly, she needed to tie her hair up. It was frizzier than normal, but Draco had neglected to tell her it looked like her cat had slept in it. Her skin was pale, the bags beneath her eyes were dark. 

 

And Draco, he looked tired, and angry, but his appearance hadn’t suffered a bit.  

 

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked her. 

 

Hermione shrugged, watching Theo stand from the bench, motioning for her to steal his spot. “I’m okay.” she replied, and she was okay, she supposed. She was better off than she could have been, with her friends around her. “My back is a bit sore, but they gave me so many pills I’m not always sure what I’m feeling.” 

 

Harry chuckled, and slipped to the side to give extra space for her on the bench. She put her back to the glass, crossing her legs on the bench while she slipped her backpack off. The glass was ice cold, and she slouched against it as it felt refreshing against her stitches through the thin fabric of her shirt.  “Good to see you, mate.” Theo said to Draco, clapping him on the back to cover what he whispered in his ear.  

 

Draco grumbled something beneath his breath, leaning on the wall while folding his arms across his chest. “Has McLaggen been back yet?” 

 

Her breath audibly caught as she waited for the answer. “Yeah.” Theo drawled. “He’s been back since it happened. His wrist is in a brace, but I thought he would be bragging about it, to be honest.” 

 

“He hasn’t?” Her voice still sounded off to her. It was sore from the crying the night before, from the ranting as she woke from a night terror this morning, and she wished she could return to her room and never speak again. 

 

“No, he hasn’t said a word about anything.” Harry pulled his knees to his chest beside her. “He’s avoiding us. We haven’t cornered him yet.” 

 

“And you won’t.” she snapped, and Draco looked away from her brown eyes as they narrowed. “I mean you especially, Malfoy. I don’t want any conflict, I just want to move on. It’s over.” 

 

“No.” Draco replied easily. “He does not get to walk away from this.” The bell rang, shrill above her head. “Come on, Granger. I’m walking you to class.” 

 

She frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Your class is all the way across the school; you’ll be late.” Hermione grabbed her backpack, slinging a single, black strap over her shoulder. “I know you’re all worried sick about me, and I love you for it, really. But I don’t need a chaperone, or a bodyguard.” 

 

“No point in arguing, Mione.” Theo remarked, watching Draco’s fingers slip around the strap, dragging the bag from her shoulder gently, and silencing her protests. “The longer you drag this out, the later he is. And we all know McGonagall will give him detention.” 

 

“That’s hardly my fault.” Hermione rolled her eyes and set off in the direction of her class. As it had happened over the years, she knew this was not a battle she could win. “You’re worrying too much.” He followed her, his shoes silent against the white tile, his eyes on nothing but her as she kept her eyes of the lockers lining the hall. 

 

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s possible.” Draco was not one to exaggerate, or even to act like a protective, older brother. He’d always let her pick her battles, and fight them on her own. 

 

She knew this wasn’t like those times. 

 

Hermione didn’t say anything to that. With how she’d reacted each time she closed her eyes, it wasn’t a surprise he was going to stick to her like glue. “I just want to move on from this, and it’s incredibly hard to do that if you’re going to guard me every waking moment.” 

 

“And it’s incredibly hard to let you out of my sight when I’ve imagined every last thing that could have happened if you didn’t fight back. I don’t care about how uncomfortable you are right now. So long as I know that bastard is far away from you.” 

 

“I’ll run into him eventually. We attend the same school; we’re in the same year. Starting a row with him will not solve any of my problems.” Hermione stopped in front of her classroom with Professor Sprout, that had the door wide open, leaving the two of them open to the looks of their peers. 

 

“This isn’t a row, Hermione.” She exhaled harshly. He only ever said her first name on certain occasions. In fact, anytime he didn’t call her Granger she was worried. “He assaulted you, would have raped you, and he put you in the hospital. What if that neighbor hadn’t been there? What if,” 

 

Hermione cut him off by placing her palm over his mouth. “Draco, there are so many what if’s here and it’s not healthy for either of us to dwell on them. And, ow! Did you bite me?” she exclaimed, ripping her hand away. “You prick.” 

 

“I prefer the term nipped.” he clarified, as if it made any difference at all. “If I let him walk away, I’d be a shit friend, Granger.” 

 

She shook her head. “Go to class, straight there or I will kill you.” he gave her a mock salute and handed her bag over. “I’ll see you in Snape’s.” Draco shook his head, but turned away without another word. 

 

Hermione settled into her seat in the front row of the classroom, berating herself when the only open spot was beside Pansy Parkinson. “Bloody hell.” she muttered beneath her breath as she took the spot. 

 

Professor Sprout did not look up from her planner as Hermione read the whiteboard, taking her textbook out for the reading assignment. “How was the hospital?” Pansy asked her loudly, slamming her book shut on the table. 

 

“It was a hospital; how do you think it was?” Hermione didn’t look away from her book, propping her head up with her right hand and never meeting the dark eyes of the girl beside her. “How was getting dumped by Draco?” 

 

There was a snort behind her that belonged to Ginny Weasley and a slow smirk planted itself on Hermione’s face. “We’re fine, thank you.” 

 

She laughed into her other hand, her shoulders shaking. “Pansy, as much as you’d like to save face, I think you know it’s a bit pathetic to insist the two of you are anything anymore.” 

 

“As if you’d know anything.” she screeched. 

 

“Ms. Parkinson, do you need to excuse yourself?” Professor Sprout asked, looking up from her book that had a cover that isn't hiding anything. Her glasses had slid halfway down her nose. 

 

‘No,” she stubbornly replied. Hermione had dropped her hand, taking in the red that flooded the girl’s cheeks. “You don’t know a damn thing about Draco and I.” 

 

“If you think he hasn’t told me every last thing about you, you’d be wrong.” Hermione whispered. “You’re not good enough for him, and you’re so insecure that you were jealous because I was in the hospital.” 

 

“It’s always you with him.” Pansy snarled. 

 

“It’s sort of our thing.” Hermione shrugged. “It’s probably because we’ve been best friends since before we could walk and not because I’m shagging him silly every time the opportunity presents itself.” Her smirk ended the conversation as Pansy huffed. “Your book is upside down, by the way.” 

 

Ginny’s laugh was barely muffled by the back of her hand, which Hermione peeked behind her to see. 

* * *

  
  


Parkinson swept out of the classroom a few moments before she stepped outside of the classroom, but not so quickly that Hermione didn’t witness her try to grab hold of Draco’s arm. He passed her, ripping his arm free with a icy cold glare thrown into the mix. 

 

“Are you bloody serious?” Hermione snapped as he walked to her, taking her bag from her as if he were a perfect gentleman. “I don’t need someone constantly protecting me you, you know.” Ginny gave them a strange once over as she came behind Hermione, her pale hands gripping her book. “I did fight my way out, you know. I am not a child.’ 

 

“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t care what you thought?” he replied calmly. “And with your stitches, you wouldn’t be fighting anyone. Not to mention McLaggen got a broken wrist from you. Imagine what I’ll do to him.” 

 

“I have my next class with Ginny, I can walk with her, and it’s a public school. He’s not just going to appear and drag me off into a closet and,” 

 

“No, he won’t because I’d kill him. Coming, Weaslette?” 

 

The redhead scoffed at the nickname like she always had. “It takes more effort to say that than to use my name, you know.” 

 

He shrugged. “Pain in the arse in a bit longer, I’d say.” 

 

Ginny walked beside Hermione, effectively placing the girl between her and Draco, a move he nodded to. “Parkinson is a bitch.” she nudged Hermione. “I wish I could have seen her face when you asked what it was like to be dumped by Malfoy.” 

 

“You  _ what _ ?” he echoed, breaking off into a laugh. 

 

“It was red, and blotchy.” Hermione grumbled. “And she deserved it. Well, here we are. See, I’m completely fine, not a scratch on me.” Hermione angrily gestured at the open doorway, the empty tables and the hallway that might be full of students, but not one of them was Cormac McLaggen. 

 

He rolled his eyes as she gestured to herself. “Just humor me for a while, Granger.” 

 

Ginny left them at the door, and Hermione sighed at the loss of any sort of back up. “One day, and if nothing happens then you leave me alone tomorrow, deal?” She held her hand out, but the only movement he made was to hand over the backpack. “Why are you so insistent on carrying that for me?” 

 

“I’m worried about your stitches.” Despite the frown on her face, her heart swelled as she snatched the strap. “I know you think I’m being an overprotective brother, but I’d rather have you annoyed than back in a hospital.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off once more. “I want you to think about it, Hermione. If he approached you, could you even run away this time?” 

 

“That’s a ridiculous question.” 

 

“It’s not. You could freeze in fear. You could panic, and not be able to function. You are on pain medication, and you’re drowsy. Even now, you’re slower in your movements. How could you get him off of you?” 

 

“Guess I’ll find some stairs.” she replied dryly. “Okay. I don’t like it one bit, but you may have a point.” He nodded, squeezing her shoulder before walking away. “Did McGonagall give you detention?’ she called out. 

 

“Yes.” Draco answered, turning to face her while still walking backwards.”Tomorrow morning.”

 

Hermione nodded, “Good.” 

 

* * *

 

Attempting to change his mind was a waste of time, so she didn’t say a word when he was shocked to find her waiting outside Lockhart’s classroom where he had left her fifty five minutes earlier. “You waited?” he asked her, his lips parting as she handed her bag over willingly. 

 

Hermione didn’t say anything as he walked with her to Professor Snape’s classroom, and she carried on in silence throughout the lesson. 

 

It was as they entered the cafeteria after their third class that she felt sick. Draco led her through the crowd that had gathered by the double doors, where the students formed what couldn’t even be called a line to get their food. 

 

“He’s here.” she mumbled to him, watching his eyes flick to the right and find where McLaggen sat. His usual friends had left him, it appeared. He sat by himself at the table, but he was staring at her. 

 

She shivered. She slid into her seat at the circular table, beside Harry and Draco took the spot to her left. “Why is he alone?” she asked Harry. 

 

“Seems his friends weren’t so supportive once they heard what happened at his house.” She nodded, watching Draco’s back while he walked to the vending machines. “How has it gone on the first day back?” 

 

She counted off on her fingers as she launched into a tirade just as Ron’s chair scratched against the tile flooring and he sunk into his seat. “Parkinson is vile, and still believes I’m shagging Malfoy, or something. Malfoy is annoying the hell out of me by being my stand in bodyguard, but that’s warranted at this point I suppose. My back hurts like hell also.” 

 

“Could be worse.” Harry replied. 

 

Hermione dug in her backpack, delving into the side pocket to pull her prescription out. She waited, her foot tapping against the white, speckled tile for Draco to come back, and hand her a bottle of water. “Thank you.” she said quietly, twisting the cap and taking the medication. A bag of pretzels slid her way, and she ignored the smirk on his face. 

 

The table was only semi quiet until Theo took his seat. 

 

They had been like this for years. It had started as Draco and Hermione as they started their first year of school. They had already been inseparable for years, and all of a sudden there were all of these other children, and as it turned out Malfoy wasn’t the type to share. She’d made easy friends with Harry Potter, the only boy in their class that didn’t knock over her sand castles and threatened to beat up anyone who did. 

 

As for Draco, Theo latched onto him nearly immediately as best friends, and as a six year old Hermione hadn’t known it should bother her. And then it was on the playground that Theo shoved Hermione from the swings and made her cry. 

 

She smiled thinking about it, opening the bag of pretzels. It was nice to look back on. She could remember it clearly, despite it being eleven years ago now. Not that she could remember many of her first school day memories. 

 

Draco had ran over to pick her up, wiping the tiny pebbles and dirt from her knee. Theo loudly shouting that Draco couldn’t be friends with a girl; that was mental. Hermione still absently thought he had been too young to use the slang as he had. But the best part wasn’t when the little blond boy told Theo that if they were going to be friends, Hermione came too. 

 

No, the best part had been when she said Harry was coming to, or she’d tell the teacher Theo pushed her from the swingset. 

 

“You’re grinning like a fool.” Theo broke the silence, her eyes snapping up to his face. “What’s got you smiling like that?” 

 

She leaned forward on the table, propping her head up with her hand. “Do you remember that time you shoved my off the swingset and Draco chose me as his friend first?” 

 

The reaction was instantaneous. Even Ron laughed, having heard the story so many times. Theo’s eyes narrowed on her, and Draco choked on the bite of his sandwich. “And then she said I had to come as well.” Harry pointed out. 

 

“I was just thinking of how we all got here, together.” she explained. 

 

She wasn’t as close to Ron Weasley as the other three boys, but he’d moved here a year prior, his many siblings in tow, transferring school districts. While they might not be so close, it was her however that adopted him into their group, dragging him by his hand one day on a cold day in December and said her friends would like him.

 

Malfoy had said something about adopting strays and she’d turned her nose up at him.  

 

She’d been right of course. Theo and Harry immediately got on well with him, playing soccer in their free time. It came as no surprise when Malfoy was hesitant to extend an olive branch, but had anyways when Hermione nagged him. 

 

They’d been there when her parents divorced, and when her mother was killed and they were here once more, but all four of them were on edge. 

 

“McLaggen.” Ron uttered, and her head whipped around to find him. 

 

He was walking towards their table, his eyes on her. “No.” she whispered, gripping Draco’s thigh beneath the table, her widened eyes meeting his.

 

“Go to the infirmary.” Malfoy told her, carefully prying her hand from his leg and squeezing it once. She shook her head as he stood, drawing the attention of their classmates. Hermione clenched her fist, wishing her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest in fear. 

 

“I’m not here to talk to you, Malfoy.” She froze up, as if a bucket of cold water had been tossed over her. 

 

“You’re not talking to her.” He snarled, stepping to the side to hide her behind his back. “You’ve done enough to her.” 

 

“Come off it, Malfoy. She would have enjoyed it if she weren’t being such a bitch.” 

 

Anger laced through her and Hermione shoved Draco out of her way, coming face to face with a boy she loathed. “I would have never enjoying having sex with someone who had to force me into it.” she hissed, shoving him hard. He stepped back two steps, but there was a cocky smile set on his face. “I am not afraid of you.” 

 

“You’re not?” he drawled, and looked behind her. Draco was nearly touching her with how close he stood, but she held her hand up to stop him from taking over. “You were screaming for help, but you weren’t afraid?” 

 

Hermione gulped as he reached forward quickly, fingertips brushing against the hollow of her throat and ripping the white gold chain from her neck, tossing it into the trashcan behind him. She was ripped away from Cormac in an instant, Draco pulling her backwards by the back of her jumper, and tossing her back into her chair as he lunged forward. 

 

From the corner of her eye she saw Ron move towards the trash where her necklace had been tossed, but looked back to Draco once more. He punched McLaggen with all the force he had, his fist tilted like she knew he always did so his knuckles did more damage. 

 

Though she wasn’t sure how he could keep throwing punches when his knuckles were still sore from the night she’d been admitted into the hospital.  

 

“Draco, fucking hell, stop!” Hermione shouted, trying to get in the middle of the pair. “He’s not worth this and you know it!” 

 

“Stay out of this, Hermione.” he growled at her, hauling McLaggen up and smashing him into the table face first. 

 

“Bloody hell.” Ron cursed, as she jumped away from the brawl that was unfolding before the school. “Malfoy, you’ve got to stop before you kill him.” 

 

Hermione looked across the room to see Professors Snape and Lockhart sprinting towards them, and she made a split second decision that she was sure would make Draco furious. 

 

It was as Cormac stumbled to his feet once more, his back facing her, that she moved. Hermione used the chair to her advantage, jumping onto his back and wrapping her arms around his throat as tightly as she could. 

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Draco yelled at her. 

 

“I’m fucking helping since you just want to throw him into tables, you bloody idiot!” she screamed at him, while McLaggen pried at her arms. “If you had just let it go.” she grumbled. 

 

Snape grabbed her by her waist, ripping her apart from him and setting her back on her feet. “Do not move.” he ordered her. 

 

Hermione stood frozen in her spot as Professor Snape grabbed Draco by his elbow, and she watched Professor Lockhart grab the other boy. 

 

It happened when she blinked. “Keep your grip on him, Gilderoy!” Snape snapped, but Cormac tore free of the grown man’s hold, -Lockhart clutching his nose as it spurted blood- barreling at her and it was only luck that she could put her arms in front of her face. 

 

“Get off me!” Draco yelled, and Snape appeared to nearly falter.

 

Her eyes squeezed shut, but she never felt the blunt force of his blow at all. Hermione slowly opened her eyes, to see the shocked look on Draco’s face, him relaxing as she took in the scene before them. Theo snatched McLaggen, pinning his wrists behind his back.  

 

And Ron Weasley had already crumpled to the floor unconscious from jumping in front of her. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I thank you? This is not meant to be as any sort of brag, I've just been on a high since seven days ago when I posted this. All of you are fucking incredible. THREE CHAPTERS. And you were so, so supportive. When the subscriptions, and the kudos, and the follows and the favorites kept coming from FFN and AO3, I was in tears. So thank you, and thank you if you comment, even if it's just to let me know you're still here. 
> 
> Beyond my sappy thank you that I promise there will definitely be more of, I've prewritten into Chapter 7, and I will probably have an update in a few days. My Alpha has an eye infection, so she's unable to look at the screen for long periods of time. So, send her good thoughts too, because I swear that this would not be as good as it is without her. 
> 
> Also: I'm on tumblr, and I love meeting new people. So, if you're ever bored. mrsren96.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's me. :)

It came as no surprise that Draco wasn’t punished by Headmaster Dumbledore, and that Cormac McLaggen was walking a thin line at Hogwarts. Hermione hadn’t spoken to Lucius Malfoy, nor had she really decided whether she would press charges against the boy who had assaulted her the week before. 

 

However, it seemed the elder Malfoy had taken matters into his own hands as he stormed into their school, and past their seats as he threw the intricate, oak door to the Headmaster’s office open with the sheer force that could have taken it off the hinges. 

 

“How are your hands?” Hermione asked quietly, reaching over to take his hand in her own gently. She peered at the bruises that were worsening, the inky purple stains swirling in his skin. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Draco didn’t reply as he let his head fall back to the glass windows facing the outside of the office. 

 

Since they’d been dismissed from the Headmaster’s office, after Draco had taken to a lamp with his fist, leaving it broken on the wooden floor, the light bulb shattered, he’d kept his eyes on his shoes, the carpet, or even the secretary, but he would not look at her. 

 

“Will Dumbledore need to speak to us?” She watched him shake his head, his eyes still closed. With Lucius Malfoy in his office -she could hear the barely muffled shouting- she had her doubts they would be invited back inside anyways. “I’d like to go to the hospital wing, but you don’t have to come with me.” 

 

He glared at her, his eyes hard, daring her to tell him to leave her alone once more. “It was only an offer.” she muttered, her lips twitching into a smile when he grabbed her bag, lifting it from the dark carpet. . 

 

“Have you ever considered not carrying every book around with you?” he ground out. “You still have stitches. Wipe that stupid grin off your face.” he grumbled. “What the hell were you thinking, jumping onto his back like that?” 

 

“At the time, I was thinking of strangling him.” Hermione admitted as she opened the door for them, but he grabbed the edge of it, ushering her through. “But also, I was terrified he was going to hurt you. He’d already hurt me once, and,” 

 

“It was stupid to worry about me.” he muttered. “He didn’t hit me once. There was no reason for you to throw yourself in the middle.” 

 

Hermione nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets as they made their way down the hallway. “I hope Ron is okay.” 

 

As they passed the classroom of Professor Flitwick, she met the steadfast glare of Parkinson, who watched them as they passed by. She was twirling a pen between her fingers, gnawing on the cap. 

 

“Weasley can take a punch.” Hermione was certain that he had said something else, but she’d missed whatever it was. 

 

“I think he was trying to find my necklace before Cormac tried to attack me.” Draco’s expression softened as he looked down towards her. “I saw him go for the trash can, but I suppose he didn’t find anything. They’re likely to have thrown out the trash now.” 

 

She knew it was true actually. Hermione had stormed back down to the cafeteria, sprinting down the rickety old wooden stairs on the south side of the building, once Dumbledore let her out of his office, moments after Draco had nearly come undone once more. It had not been a wise decision for the pair of them to sit beside Cormac McLaggen. 

 

In her ridiculous dash towards the hall, Draco had muttered, “Fuck it.” and slid down the banister beside her, deftly jumping over the side and merely meeting her at the bottom. She’d known how devastated he was for her when he didn’t even chuckle when she called him a showoff. 

 

“It’s okay though.” she muttered, her fingers brushing against his fist, reaching between the two of them. “It really is. Cormac isn’t going to bother me, Draco. It will be okay.” She offered him a smile as the came to the door of the infirmary, but it didn’t ease the way his eyebrows drew together. Shadows were barely visible through the frosted glass, shadows belonging to Theo and Harry she was sure. “Thank you for defending me. I wish it hadn’t happened at all, but it couldn’t have been avoided.” He stood straight, and uncomfortably still as she slipped her arms around his waist.  

 

“Yeah. Anytime.” he breathed, slipping his right arm around her waist and pressing her into him for a moment. “Let’s go see Weasley.” He opened the door, standing still as she rushed past him. 

 

Hermione hopped onto the foot of the small cot, her legs crossed, and inches away from where he would mistakenly brush against her. Theo and Harry already sat in cheap plastic chairs they had pulled round from the other beds. “How are you feeling?” 

 

“Like I got hit by a train.” Ron replied sourly, reaching to touch his temple. “I have a bleeding headache and these two never stop talking.” 

 

She smiled. “I’m sorry you had to jump in the middle of it like that.” 

 

“Didn’t have to.” he said. “Like I could let him just take a swing at you. Besides, it was nothing. Malfoy over there did most of the work like some sort of animal.” A wry smile was on his face while he looked at the boy in question, but Draco didn’t smile at all. 

 

But Hermione choked on her laugh. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ron. He’s always getting into fights, but not you. Thank you, really.” She shuffled backwards, putting her back to the metal of the cot. “Dumbledore threatened to expel him if he steps out of line one more time.” 

 

Her news was met with yelling from the two in chairs and she giggled as Ron shouted for them to be quiet. The demand was met with Theo’s yelling. “What the hell does he mean one more time? Is attempted rape not enough for,” 

 

“Enough!” Malfoy snapped. Theo glared, rising from his chair. “You can’t change the result, so don’t fucking remind her.” 

 

She looked between the two awkwardly, meeting Harry’s wide eyes. “Maybe we should let Ron rest now.” Hermione told Theo, pushing off the confrontation for another time. “We’ll see you when they let you out of the hospital wing. Dumbledore wants the rest of us back in class.” 

 

“Escaped getting in trouble for beating the hell out of McLaggen?” Ron asked Draco pointedly, and she thought that it was far from the time to provide comedic relief. 

 

The tall blond moved behind her, his hands gripping the white, metal railing tightly. His fingers were cold as they brushed against her through her jumper. He was fuming, stewing in his own anger still. And Hermione had no doubt that his anger surpassed her own. 

 

The blond shrugged. “Prick had it coming. He deserved worse.” Her eyes gently closed at his voice; the deadly undertone, the tightness of his voice. 

 

All of it made her shiver. 

* * *

  
  


Her father still didn’t want her to be alone, and having calmed down over the course of the last three days, she understood why. Because it did finally hit her what had happened to her, what could have happened if it weren’t for her quick thinking. It was only unfortunate that it was in the middle of homework after school at the Malfoy’s. 

 

Lucius wasn’t home, he wouldn’t be for some time. It was Draco that walked in from the kitchen into the living room to find her blubbering over the coffee table. “Uh, Granger?” he asked. 

 

She kept her head down, shutting the advanced Chemistry book and brought her knees to her chest while her back was against the couch. They’d been sitting in the floor for over an hour, and it had only been moments earlier that Draco had gone to the kitchen to heat some leftovers from the takeaway he’d bought after school had been dismissed. 

 

Hermione didn’t look up at him as she stared at the scratches of her hands, that were slowly healing. The small defensive wounds would vanish soon, her stitches would be removed, and there would be no visible sign that she had a reason to be so distraught. It bothered her, to know the evidence would disappear from the world, though she needed it to vanish from her body from her piece of mind. 

 

She was pulled in equal directions wanting the world to forget what had nearly been done to her out of shame, out of the guilt she was brilliant at misplacing. And then she wanted to stand in front of anyone she knew, detailing exactly what sort of man that boy would grow into, to allow herself to split open and tell the truth even if her voice shakes. 

 

The similarities to her mother were uncanny because adopting the mentality that no, she was not a victim, was something she did. 

 

And she dragged those who hurt her, through court, but through her own sort of hell she could craft. 

 

“I can’t believe I was almost raped.” she uttered the words softly, wiping the tears away as she kept her eyes on the glass table before her. Her surroundings were familiar, like coming home. It had been her second home for as long as she could remember. “God, I was such an idiot.” 

 

He slid back into his previous spot, on the gray carpet beside her, but he left some extra space, and wedged between leather sofa and the glass table. He was not nearly as comfortable as she was with his legs stretched out, his knees knocking against the supporting metal beams of the table.. “You weren’t an idiot.” he told her, leaning forward to set the drinks on the table as well with the food. “The last two months have been hard, I get it. It’s not your fault.” 

 

His lips twitched as she took the two cups and moved them to the coasters instead, but she remained stoic. 

 

“I wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me wanting to punish myself. You said that, Draco, yourself!” she shouted, and he just held his hands up. 

 

Her eyes were wide, filling with tears. Hermione’s bottom lip trembled, but she bit down to attempt to hide it. In all the seventeen years of growing up together, she’d never been violent. Her temperament didn’t lead her into fights where she had ever thrown a punch. Even now, she wasn’t itching to hurt who had hurt her, not like he was.  

 

“The only thing that causes rape are rapists, Hermione. Not you drinking with someone you trusted, not wearing a short skirt, not anything you had control over. This is on him.” He could see she didn’t really believe him as she nodded, her fingers trembling as brushed away tears, attempting to hide any sign of weakness. Nevermind that it wasn’t weak at all; she’d never believe him. “I know it’s hard to believe me right now, but I need you to try for me.” 

 

“What would my mum think? She was a tough as nails barrister who put Tom Riddle in prison, and I walk into my own assault?” 

 

Just the mention of the name made him shudder. Like her, he’d dug into his father’s files over the summer, reading the atrocities of the head of the Death Eaters. Hermione had mumbled to him in the middle of the night, how if her her mum could stand up to a man like Riddle, what did it say about her? If she couldn’t do the same? 

 

“You fought him off.” he spoke quietly. “No matter how much you disliked your mother since the divorce, you’re a hell of a lot like her. Not to try to be wise, but don’t you think she would have focused on the fact that you put yourself between him and me? You did that because you fight your own battles. So did she.” 

 

“It got her killed.” she replied flatly.

 

“Do you ever blame my dad?” Hermione stared at him, pale, pink lips parted. “I’ve never asked because we’ve never talked about the night she died. You shut that part of you off.” 

 

“I’ve never blamed him. After the funeral, when I could start to talk about her, I wondered why he had survived. So I asked him, and he told me how Tom Riddle made a ‘promise’ to my mother that she would die if he pursued him. He told me how watching her die was Riddle’s idea of punishment. So my mother lost her life, and your father was forced to stand by. It’s not on him; Mum knew she would die, and she asked him to look out for me,

 

“I just regret everything I said to her since Dad filed for divorce. I thought I would have more time to make amends in the future, but I was wrong.” 

 

“You had every reason to be upset when you found out she had an affair.” Hermione sighed heavily and reached for her glass, pausing for a moment to glare at the tiny ring her cup had left on the glass minutes earlier.  

 

“I told her I hated her, and wished she was dead.” she mumbled, placing the straw between her lips. 

 

“You were angry. We’re all guilty of saying things we don’t really mean.”

 

“It wasn’t worth it. It destroyed my dad, and I just wanted nothing to do with her.” He raked his hair out of his face, watching her turn towards him, her legs tucked beneath her. “I’m ashamed.” 

 

Draco nodded. “Yeah, but you’ve got to keep moving forward. It’s what she’d tell you anyways. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to be afraid, but please don’t shut me out this time.” 

 

“What do you want me to do?” Hermione spit out, setting her half empty glass down a tad to harshly. “Do you want to hear that every time I’ve showered since, I’ve scrubbed my skin so hard it nearly bled? Because I can still feel his hands on me, or that when I close my eyes, I see him on top of me? I’m terrified I’ll never be able to be in a relationship now because I can’t get away from him. He’s in my head, there’s no way away from that.” 

 

“A relationship does not automatically mean heavy petting and shagging. And you can take all the time you need before you’re ever ready for someone to touch you. That’s fucking fine. I will murder anyone who says it isn’t.” 

 

Hermione grinned, even if it were only for a moment. “I think the fear of being touched is already starting to go away. I mean, Harry hugged me when we were at our lockers and I didn’t think of him once. It felt normal, like I was safe. With those I trust, I know I’m going to be fine, but say I trip, and someone grabs my arm to catch me, those are the things I think about at night. I’m just scared, you know, maybe I should talk about the rest of this with Ginny instead.” 

 

“Granger,” Draco threw her a withering look. “I’ve seen you take off your diaper. I don’t remember it, but I know it happened. You can tell me absolutely anything.” 

 

“I’m scared that in the future, when I want to have sex with someone, even if I’ve moved past this, I won’t be able to because of my fears.” He sucked in a breath. Clearly her admission had not been what she expected and her cheeks heated up. “I told you that you wouldn’t want to hear it.” 

 

“No, no.” he spit out quickly before she could escape into another room, avoiding him entirely. “I’m surprised is all. You’ve never brought the topic up.” 

 

“Well, it hasn’t come up, okay? I just have this fear that I’ll wreck the first time because I’ll have a panic attack like I did this morning. I tried to maul you.” He snickered. “It’s not funny!” Hermione snarled, punching him in the stomach. 

 

Their morning had been anything but funny. As she’d burrowed into his side once more, he suspected it made her feel safer, thought he didn’t say anything, she woke up. Hermione’s first thought had been that there was someone  _ in her bed _ , that smelled of cologne, maybe of sweat and she went wild. 

 

It was the blow to his nose that jarred him awake. He would have preferred to not take the beating, but it was not so simple to stop her. The only way would have been to hold her arms back, possibly to pin her wrists, and her whimpers during her nightmares told her that had already happened to her once before, and it would traumatize her. 

Talking her down had not been easy, and it was only luck his nose wasn’t skewed. He was, however, sporting a nasty bruise on his ribs that he would rather die than admit she’d caused. 

 

“The first time in any relationship is usually less than to be desired, Granger. Your fear is valid; I just think you’re worrying too much right now. Plus, you’re a virgin.” Hermione hissed an expletive at him. 

 

“Oh, what the hell does that have to do with this?” 

 

“I mean you’re probably worried about fucking it up anyways when it happens because you don’t have experience. Which is fine, you probably will.” She groaned at his comment, and his attempt to lighten the atmosphere. 

 

“I wasn’t worried until you said that. Thanks.” 

 

“It’s easy, really. I can explain.” 

 

“I’ll kill you.” she growled at him. “I’ve had to hear enough of your lessons from Pansy fucking Parkinson.” Her friend stifled a laugh as he handed her the box of food. “Forgetting your last comment, thank you. It helped in a roundabout way.” 

 

“I’m here anytime. We live four houses apart.” 

 

“Yeah, I’ll never be rid of you.” Hermione responded, flipping the heavy book back open. “You know, Snape said we could turn this in on Friday.” 

 

“You don’t want to finish it before it’s due?” Hermione debated this, chewing on her lip before nodding.

 

“Not today. I just need a break. Grab  _ The Force Awakens _ ?” He grinned at her request. “Three months until the new movie.” she remarked as he jumped to his feet. “We’re going on opening night, right?” 

 

Draco walked past where he had kicked his shoes off by the entryway, and past the mahogany bookshelf that was only one of many in their household. She was sliding her book back into the backpack leaned against the table while Draco pulled his wool jumper over his head, mistakenly dragging his black shirt up as well. 

 

“Of course.” Always the slob, he tossed the garment over the back of his father’s leather recliner rather than hanging it on the rack a few steps away. “We always go.” He knelt down, slipping the box out from the others. 

 

Hermione crawled onto the couch, kicking her shoes off and settling into a comfortable spot. She’d chosen wisely when she’d worn joggers that day. Denim would be far too tight to tuck her legs under her. 

 

When they were younger, eleven to be exact, Draco had realized his best friend had no idea who Han Solo was. It was a problem he’d remedied immediately, having already owned all of the two trilogies. Over a Friday that turned into a Saturday the two of them had sat on that couch and marathoned all six episodes, and then once more the next weekend since he’d successfully converted the girl to the  _ Star Wars _ franchise. 

 

And they had a tradition of watching them often, when one was upset and couldn’t quite get the words out, even though they hadn’t discussed it. Once the newest trilogy had began in 2014, Hermione had decided it was time for a new tradition and that was to marathon them all, go to the opening release, and then watch their favorite episodes afterwards. 

 

“Actually, would you grab  _ Rogue One _ ? I really need to cry.” 

 

“Bloody hell, you know I hate that one.” Draco had already grabbed it though, seemingly before she’d even corrected him. She didn’t mention it though, like she would ever give him the chance to brag. 

 

“And if you don’t play it, I’ll tell everyone why. Because you cried with me and I had to hold you.” Hermione teased, shrugging as he turned around just long enough to shoot her an obscene gesture. 

 

He flicked the light switch, immersing the room in the darkness before joining her on the couch. He’d already closed the drapes, the black fabric rejecting the sunlight outside. She shuffled around, settling her feet in his lap, eyeing him to watch his reaction. 

 

He didn’t have one. “You cried too, Granger. And you also had to be held, so shut your mouth.” 

 

She threw a chip at him with a smirk.

  
  



	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna go ahead and post this, despite a bit of trouble on where to start the next chapter. I have a fairly good idea with the outline. The comments always help, so *hopefully* I'll get another update out in a couple of days. 
> 
> Also, this was my favorite to write to date, the dramione interactions as friends, and the way it gets heated at the end. :) Let me know what you think, if you have time. A million thanks for the subs, kudos, and comments!

Chapter Six

 

The days turned into a week, and the first week turned into two weeks. 

 

Hermione Granger found herself shooting a text to Malfoy in the middle of the night,  _ it’s been two weeks.  _ The days might drag on, but the nights were worse. She found herself waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in her own sweat. After deciding it was becoming ridiculous, she’d stripped the bed of the heavy blankets. 

 

Before two weeks ago, she’d always been freezing and wrapped herself in all the blankets she could find. 

 

She wasn’t sure what she thought of the way she was organizing her life in her mind; she’d placed all of her memories before her mother’s demise on one shelf, and then she looked at the horrible night two weeks before turning seventeen and sorted them by before and after. 

 

It wasn’t healthy, but she could feel herself making progress as they went. She didn’t flinch when a classmate suddenly moved, a small fact that had made her smile. Her eyes didn’t burn when she saw Cormac McLaggen in the hallways. 

 

He’d been switched out of her classes, though she didn’t understand why he hadn’t been expelled. It wasn’t her place as a student to question a man like Albus Dumbledore, and she was aware of that, but Theo was not. She’d taken his reasoning with a grain of salt, the pathetic reason that a boy like McLaggen deserved another chance. 

 

It gnawed at her; the thought he might assault another woman who simply revoked her consent. It made her sick with anger, and maybe anger wasn’t the best way to cope, but it was better than sitting in the darkness. 

 

She sighed in relief when her phone went off, vibrating against the mattress. Hermione rolled onto her side, grabbing the phone and open the message.  _ I know.  _ She grumbled, not knowing what to respond with. Of course he knew, and of course he’d nearly replied instantaneously. 

 

He’d been leaving his phone on loud, and each text she sent would wake him. It made her stop before she pressed send, contemplating if it was something that could wait. It was hard to ask for help, she was realizing, but it was harder to lock it away. 

 

 _Walk?_ Came across her screen under his last message. She bit her lip, typing her reply once before ultimately sighing and erasing it. 

 

_ No, it’s nothing. I’ll go back to sleep.  _

 

She went into the settings of the phone, scrolling through and turning the vibrate off. Of course he’d reply and tell her to shut up, to put on real pants instead of her fluffy pajamas, but he’d barely slept for as long as she had. 

 

Between her late night calls, and her texts, he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep. Despite his efforts to maintain his ‘rough around the edges’ appearance as she preferred to call it, he was likely staying up at night in case she reached out. He was the type to worry about missing her calls, especially after missing over a dozen calls. 

 

Hermione laid on on her back, her arms draped over her stomach while she stared at the ceiling. She’d adjusted to the darkness since her eyes had shot open, her mouth opened in a silent scream. The first thing she’d moved for was the wispy looking curtains, looking frantically at the street below. 

 

She sighed as she saw nothing but the wet pavement, and the street fully lit up by the street lights. No one there, no one awkwardly attempting to hide behind behind their brick mailbox.

 

She hadn’t voiced the fear out loud: the notion that she was afraid to see him standing on her street if she opened the curtains. It was mental. As if that boy was coming anywhere near her again. Especially after the events in the Great Hall. Still, the fear lingered. It was her hope that they would slowly vanish, the same way she’d overcome being touched. 

 

On some level, she’d wager the bet she’d never be okay with a stranger touching her, but she wouldn’t have been before either. It would keep her vigilant, possibly for years to come, and she thought that was a terrible shame. 

 

Hermione jumped, her leg jerking and her knee popping as there was a knock on her window. Her  _ second story window.  _

 

There was only one person who would climb the tree outside of her house at four in the morning. Hermione rolled out of bed, wincing as her feet met the cold, wooden floor and she opened the window, muttering he needed to stay quiet. 

 

“You could have used the door.” she told him, easing the window shut once more, and closing the curtains. He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, as if he were questioning why she would close them now that was was in her bedroom. 

 

Draco looked over the bed, his lips curved into a small frown. The sheets were out of sorts, tangled as if she had been thrashing about, which she had been until she woke up. Hermione watched, uncomfortably, as he eyes took in the place on her pillow where her tears had left a stain, combined with the mascara that she hadn’t had the energy to remove. The stains were noticeable against the light blue pillow case.  

 

It was impossible to feel anything but safe when he was around, but she didn’t tell him that. 

 

“Frank wouldn’t have let me come up to your room this late.” Hermione laughed quietly. “You know he thinks we’re dating and just haven’t told him.” 

 

“You’re wrong. Dad knows there’s not a chance of that happening.” 

 

Draco pretended to be offended as he jumped to sit on her dresser, pushing aside her jewelry box and a pile of notebooks first. “If you ever plan on having a serious boyfriend, you should probably lose the fluffy pajamas. Nerd.” 

 

She glared at him, turning her nose up. “They’re  _ Star Wars  _ and I’m not giving them up for anyone.” Hermione came to lean against the dresser, right beside where his legs dangled. “Why are you here?” She wrapped her arms around her middle, still stiff. 

 

“Is that my hoodie?” Draco asked, his voice lightening. 

 

“You left it here at some point. I think it was the day, oh, I remember It was the day where it was raining, and you forced me to go on a walk. You forgot to get it out of the dryer. It’s too big for me, so it’s nice to sleep in.” 

 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep.” he murmured, answering her previous question, picking up the frame beside him. “You have shite taste. This photo is awful.” 

 

“We’re both laughing.” she defended. “We’re both happy. And look behind us. Theo and Harry are shoving cake in the other’s face.” He held the frame in his hand, his thumb brushing against the glass over where she was laughing. “Having you here doesn’t help me sleep, either.” 

 

He set the photo back where it belonged. “Liar. You always sleep better when I’m here. You’re not sleeping with one eye open if I do.” 

 

She bit her lip. He was right, the only time she’d been able to sleep through the entire night had been the three nights he’d stayed with her afterwards. That didn’t make it fair to him though, to be losing sleep as well. Draco was close to running on fumes. She’d noticed he was slacking off in their classes, nearly falling asleep in Chemistry the day before until Professor Snape had slapped a yardstick against their table. 

 

“It’s not fair to you.” she insisted, moving to tie her hair up, if only so he wouldn’t see her her hands still shook at times. “You stay awake all night so I sleep. You need to rest, Draco. You haven’t slept properly in days.” 

 

“I’ll go to sleep if you do.” Draco waited silently for her nod. “Set an alarm so I can hide in the morning.” 

 

Hermione covered her mouth with the back her hand as she snorted. “Don’t worry about it. Dad doesn’t come in my room in the mornings anymore. I lock myself in, and he hasn’t asked me not to.” 

 

His eyes settled on the white door, where the lock had been turned, and she must have placed a chair under sometime after she’d gotten home. The door itself had a mirror mounted to the back of it, her desk a few steps to the left of the entrance 

 

“Did moving the bed help at all?” 

 

Hermione looked at her feet as she nodded her head. “Some, yeah. I sleep for longer than I was.” 

 

Earlier in the week, she’d wanted to be able to sleep with her back to the wall. In her mind, it had made sense, if her back was to the wall, at least she would have a full view of her surroundings, anything,  _ anyone _ , coming forward. However, Hermione was not strong enough to move the large bed by herself, and neither was Draco. 

 

She wasn’t sure what hurt worse, being alone in her own mind, or watching her best friend’s face crumble as she explained the why. He hadn’t said anything of it, choosing to step away and call their other friends. She’d watched while Theo, Harry, and Ron shuffled to pick up the other three corners and move the frame, mattresses and all because they were stubborn and would not hear of not moving it in one go. 

 

“Take that side.” he told her gently, watching her with his hands shoved in the pockets of the black joggers he must have thrown on as he sprinted out of his house. “I’ll grab the blankets.” 

 

“No, not tonight. We don’t need them.” she told him, crawling onto the bed and laying her head on the pillow. “We both know it won’t solve anything. I always crawl over them anyways.” 

 

He grinned at her. “Yeah, you always have to cuddle me, don’t you?” Draco kicked his shoes off, laying down on the black sheets; she’d changed them since he’d been here a few days ago. 

 

“I have never heard you complain.” she snapped, smacking him with a pillow after he’d set his glasses on the nightstand. “You’ll have to wake up earlier to go home and change.” 

 

“I’ll just wear this.” he told her. “It’s a Monday tomorrow anyways.” 

 

“And your contact lenses?” 

 

“I’ll wear the glasses for a day.” Hermione shrugged, tucking the sheet around her frame. “Goodnight.” he whispered. 

 

“Night.” she mumbled, stretching her arm out to poke him in his ribs, smirking when he chuckled. 

 

* * *

  
  


The hours to follow kept her spirits up, despite the occasional onceover before she rounded a corner. The younger Malfoy was still attached to her practically by the hip, though that was nothing new she supposed. 

 

Her father had already left that morning by the time she’d exited her room, checking to see if his car was in the driveway before Draco emerged from her bedroom. While Mr. Granger wouldn’t ask them directly if Hermione had ‘come to her senses’, as he’d asked her in the past, he would certainly ask her. And that stupid question was just that, a stupid question. 

 

It wasn’t Theo or Harry’s job to keep her laughing, but they took it on themselves anyway. Harry told her in private, and without asking her how she was feeling because she’d been open with hating those words, that he knew she was having a horrible time, and while there may not be a lot he could do to help her, if she was smiling, she wasn’t crying. 

 

And that was a start, he said. 

 

Which had led them to now, after she’d snapped at the blond at her side to hand over her bloody bag. They’d seen McLaggen in the hallway, not a complete surprise, but an unwelcome sight as she had been snogging Padma Patil against the row of lockers. 

 

If it hadn’t been for his swift reflexes, Hermione Granger would have dragged that boy into a closet, and clubbed him over the head with the first thing she could find. That was how she felt anyway, until Draco pointed out that maybe that wasn’t the wisest decision. Damn it all, she knew he believed she’d freeze up if McLaggen were to grab her once more, but she felt that perhaps the rage coursing through her might help. 

 

Harry, caught on the spot as she ranted about the likes of that vile boy, did the first thing he could think of, the slamming of the metal door jarring her from her own thoughts. Theo had been opening the locker, only after getting the combination wrong, when Harry pushed the door shut. His eyes were on her, waiting for his reaction. 

 

She’d grinned, her arm dropping to her side, fingers curled around the black strap. So once Theo had opened the door once more, glaring at the black, messy haired boy, Harry slammed it shut once more. 

 

“You fucking,” Theo mumbled.

 

But her attention was drawn away from the two boys by a sudden movement on her right. Ginny was standing beside her older brother, repeatedly jabbing him in his side. Biting his lip did nothing to hide the laughter he desperately attempted to hold in. “Get on with it.” Ginny told him. He whispered something to her. “If you don’t tell her, I will.” 

 

Hermione arched an eyebrow as Ron blushed a deep crimson, and wouldn’t meet her eyes. She turned back to her friends in front of her, watching Harry repeatedly shut Theo’s locker each time he got it open. 

 

“Sod off.” Theo yelled. 

 

“Hermione.” She turned around, still smiling from the boys’ antics. She looked up at Ron, who’d pushed himself off of the lockers from the time she’d looked away from them. It still surprised her at times how tall he was when he stood up straight. 

 

“Hey.” Hermione greeted him with a smile.  

 

“Do you remember when I told you I couldn’t find your necklace?” The locker shut a final time loudly, and Draco froze behind her. 

 

Harry muttered under his breath. “Holy shit, he’s doing it.” 

 

“Doing what?” Draco murmured under his breath.

 

“Uh, yeah. I remember. It’s okay, really. You did what you could.” Hermione shifted her weight to the other foot to turn around once more, but he caught her by her shoulder. Her eyes flicked down to his hand and back up to his face. 

 

“Well,” he began, but then cut himself off. He looked like he was going to be sick, and she placed her hand over his. 

 

“Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Ron? I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.” she asked quietly. They’d not only gathered the attention of their own friends, including Draco who was watching intently, but the rest of the students in the hallway. 

 

“Oh, if you don’t tell her, I will!” Ginny repeated, giving Ron a sharp shove that pushed him into Hermione, which as a result, caused her to stumble backwards into Draco. His hands flew up to grip her arms, and Ron appeared to grow paler. 

 

Her eyes shot open in surprise as Ron stepped out of her personal space. “Yeah. About when I told you I didn’t find it, I lied.” She blinked, her head tilting to the side. He pulled his hand from his pocket, her necklace dangling from it. Hermione gasped loudly, grabbing it from his grip. “I know it meant a lot to you, and I wanted to get it repaired. I know you could have, but you’d been dealing with,” 

 

She cut him off by jumping forward and throwing her arms around his neck, her backpack forgotten as it landed at Draco’s feet. He caught her carefully, slowly returning the embrace. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” she repeated, squeezing his neck tightly. 

 

In the midst of all of it, she’d found her feet had left the ground since Ron was so much taller than her. 

 

“You’re welcome.” he replied. 

 

Hermione laughed when he blushed once more after she pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you.” she said once more clasping the necklace around her neck. “It means the world to me.” Hermione was surprised when Draco shoved past them, or more specifically between them. “Don’t be a prat, Malfoy.” she called out. 

 

“Don’t hog the whole fucking hallway.” he ground out, turning into a classroom without another word. 

 

Hermione tore her eyes away from the way he’d gone, turning to the others once more. “Do you know what his problem is?” 

 

“No idea. Maybe he’s frustrated he dug through the trash for that and Weasley here knew where it was all along.” Theo replied. 

 

“He didn’t tell me about that.” 

 

“Of course he wouldn’t. Draco didn’t find your necklace; why would he bring it up? Why did it take two weeks?” 

 

“What?” Ron responded too quickly, practically spitting the answer. 

 

“Why did it take two weeks?” Hermione echoed the words. “It’s the same chain I already had. It would have been an easy fix for any jeweler to fix where it snapped.” The second bell rang at the end of her sentence, and she was already stepping in the direction of Snape’s classroom. “Tell me later. Professor Snape would love to give me detention.” 

 

She noted absently that it was the first time in two weeks she’d carried her own backpack. 

 

* * *

  
  


From the moment she’d rushed into the classroom behind him, she’d known talking to him would have to wait. Professor Snape had already placed a pop quiz on each desk, and she swore his eyes were nearly burning a hole in her back when she didn’t suppress her groan. 

 

“Is there a problem with my lesson plan, Miss Granger? Perhaps you could do better?” he sneered from the front of the class, poised against the wooden podium. Severus Snape, she’d known his first name since she was a child, he was a close friend of Lucius Malfoy, and her mother, was not what she’d refer to as a kind man. 

 

Nor was he unnecessarily cruel, but his sarcastic streak was less than to be desired. Draco shared that with his Godfather -it was still odd to think their teacher had such a close relationship when she looked on the snarky remarks he let slip-, the crushing sarcasm she could contend with on any given day. 

 

Except today, she thought miserably. “No, Professor. I apologize.” Hermione took her seat quietly, openly staring at Draco. “Come on, Malfoy. Talk to me; we have a minute before class begins.” It gained absolutely no reaction from him, save for his nostrils flaring in anger. “You were fine, and then you’re yelling at me in the middle of the hallway?” 

 

Her sigh was almost a growl as the bell rang, and he looked at her for just a moment, gray eyes empty as he took in her flushed cheeks. “You’re such a prick.” she hissed, but he only tapped his fingers against the table. 

 

“If you’re done with your lover’s squabble, we can carry on with class.” Professor Snape sounded bored, but she did not miss the twinkle in his eyes as other students began to whisper. A retort was on the tip of her tongue, her eyes narrowing, and then a knee knocked into her below the table. 

 

“Control your temper, idiot.” he muttered. 

 

Professor Snape watched over the class, thought she felt like he were paying closer attention to her at the moment. He dressed in black trousers, paired with a black button up. In an opinion she kept solely to herself, she’d always thought he’d worn far too much black. His skin appeared paler than it was, and combined with his black hair, that always seemed to be a bit greasy no matter what shampoo he used. 

 

She did not rush through that quiz, she told herself. The quiz ought to be an exam, given the ridiculous length of it, but then again, it made her think of what the exams were really like. And it nearly made her curse under her breath. 

 

She looked up once to be exact, to find Snape’s eyes on her as she rushed through the answers. He’d say something about her handwriting later, a small jab to insinuate she was too much in a hurry for his class. The sooner she completed it, the sooner she might be able to nab Draco’s attention and force him to tell her exactly what the hell had happened in the hallway.   

 

Upon turning the quiz over, she waited for their professor to focus on another student. While she pitied Neville, who she could clearly see was sweating under the pressure, she was glad to be out from under the watchful eyes that seemed to see everything in this classroom. 

 

Slipping her cell phone from her back pocket, she typed a message to him, pressing send. 

 

One that he opened, in front of her, before locking the screen. She gritted her teeth. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Miss Granger, I need to speak with you.” Professor Snape called from the front of the room. She looked from him, to Draco who was gathering his things to escape from her as quickly as possible. 

 

Ignoring Snape’s protests, she chased after Draco, catching him by his elbow and dragging him into a dusty storage closet. 

 

“This is why we get asked if we’re secretly dating.” he grumbled as he reached up to pull the string on the light. 

 

“If you weren’t avoiding me, I wouldn’t have to drag you into a closet.” Hermione dropped her bag on the floor, and folded her arms over her chest. “We sit beside each other and you didn’t talk to me once.” 

 

He looked down at her, his glasses slipping down his nose. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes gave him away. Try as he might, even if he could hold a straight face, she always knew how he felt. Malfoy was furious. It was in the small details, the way his eyes were burning, or the hard set of his jaw, or the way he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they had curled into fists. 

 

“Professor Snape would have taken the seats away from us if we talked through out his lecture.” he said flatly, stepping away from her as she pressed herself closer to him, staring at him, daring him to lie to her one more time. Draco’s reasoning had several holes in it, that she jumped on. 

 

“You were on your phone under the desk the entire time. I know you read those texts.” She pulled her phone out, unlocking it and shoving the screen in his face. “It says  _ read _ , and I know that you never ignore me unless you’re upset. So spit it out. Why are you pissed at Ron? He gave me my mother’s necklace back.”

 

“I don’t care that he-,”

 

“Don’t lie to me.” she cut him off loudly, and she heard a scuffling outside of the door. “Theo told me you were probably upset because you’d dug through the trash and couldn’t find it. And, why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?” Hermione was huffing by the end of her rant, eyeing the door as someone eavesdropped outside. 

 

“What did it matter?” Draco yelled. “I didn’t find the bloody necklace, so why make you cry by bringing it up again?” 

 

“It matters to me because you did it at all!” She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting the breath she was holding out. “I don’t know why you were so angry and yelled at me in the middle of the hallway, but I suggest you fix it.” 

 

“Weasley waited so long because he wanted to use it to make you like him.” he said quietly, deflating. “I didn’t like that he was using that as a way in to trying to ask you out.” 

 

“You know, even if I wasn’t angry, I’d say that’s ridiculous. It’s not your business how someone chooses to act around me.” 

 

“It is after what you’ve gone through. The last thing you need is a boyfriend.” Hermione glared up at him. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that letting Ron Weasley think he has a chance is a fucking good idea. You said yourself you’re not ready,” 

 

“I said I wasn’t ready to have sex with someone.” she spit out. “And from the looks of it, considering he did something that meant so much to me, I don’t think that’s exactly what he’s going after right now.” 

 

“So what? You just jump into a relationship after,” 

 

“Draco, I choose how to move on. I choose how to fix myself after someone breaks me, not you. I thought you were the one who was always on my side.” 

 

Hermione through the door open, pushing past Oliver Wood and Seamus Finnigan who had been listening with their ears to the door. 

 

“Hermione!” 

 

Her first name, she thought just as she stormed away from him. 


	7. Chapter Seven

She didn’t falter as she stormed away from him, and the over enthusiastic questions of Oliver and Seamus. 

 

The two of them never fought with the other. They argued, of course, quarreled over the last chip, or she gave him lectures over the girls he chose to date, but this, it was altogether different. 

 

If it had only been a few words that he’d spit at Ron Weasley, she realized she would have moved on, but it was more. Draco had yelled at her, which wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare. 

 

And he’d suddenly snapped on her, and she’d reacted badly. It was a fact that she didn’t deny. It was a mistake to scream at him, to act like he had no right to be the over protective brother he was being. 

 

Hermione groaned, raking her hand through her hair. If the roles had been reversed, she could come to the conclusion that she would have destroyed anyone she believed to be dangerous for him. Whether it was physically, she almost laughed at that as she knew fully well that Draco had never started something he couldn’t finish, or whether it was emotional. 

 

The thought of  _ anyone _ hurting him, causing damage to his feelings that he kept well in check- 

 

-Well, she supposed she could understand. 

 

“Miss Granger.” An angry voice cut through the silence. 

 

Hermione jumped from her spot in the hallway, banging her elbow against the wall and cursing colorfully as she turned to see Professor Snape. Her mouth went dry. “Oh, no, you wanted to see me after class. I’m  _ so _ ,-” 

 

He waved off her stammering, but she noted that his grip on the Chemistry book in his hand was harsh, his lanky fingers paler than normal. “It’s utterly annoying how you and Mr. Malfoy ignore me at times.” he spoke at a regular tone, his voice flat. 

 

“Professor, I didn’t mean to,” 

 

“Oh?” Snape drawled with fake sincerity, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Hermione winced at that; she was in for it now. “You didn’t mean to storm out of my class room? You didn’t mean to ignore my direct instructions to not chase after Mr. Malfoy?” 

 

Her shoulder slumped. “Okay.” she replied glumly. “I am sorry,” 

 

“I have no doubt, but I’m not here to discuss your judgement; I don’t have all day.” Her mouth snapped shut, sealing away the apology that had been on the tip of her tongue again. “You didn’t sign up for the tutoring program this year.” 

 

“No, I didn’t.” she replied, biting her cheek as she wanted to explain exactly why. It wasn’t needed. Snape knew why she hadn’t signed up; he’d been the one to suggest to her that it might be good for her to take the time for herself, and there was also the fact that she had her own marks to worry herself with. 

 

At the beginning of September, when he no would have paired her with someone who had low marks the year before, she’d been with Cormac McLaggen. The time off had been suggested due to her mother’s murder two months’ prior, and the fact that she also was awful company. 

 

“I have a student who is in danger of failing the year.” he spoke bluntly. 

 

“What? We’re barely a month into the school year, professor. They have the entire year to make up that mark.” 

 

Professor Snape merely shook his head. “You are underestimating the incompetence of this student, I assure you, Miss Granger. I will give credit where it is due. He’s doing quite well in the area of hands on assignments, but he lacks the discipline to sit down and study for the tests that will enable him to take part in hands on assignments. I have no doubt that he will fail this year if he doesn’t have a tutor.” 

 

Hermione swallowed. He hadn’t asked her outright, he wouldn’t. In Draco’s words, Professor Snape could be a right prick, but he was fair. The older man had been around them as children, as they grew into themselves, and there was a tiny, nearly miniscule soft spot that made it to where he would not force her to do this were she uncomfortable. 

 

But Hermione didn’t even think of it when he said the student was a boy. It didn’t feel as though her stomach was twisting into knots at the thought of being alone with another male, and it would strike her later. That maybe she’d planted a lot of her fears herself. Not that it made them any less real, if they were only in her head. 

 

“What approach would you suggest?” Hermione asked quietly, shifting her weight to the other leg. 

 

“I’d suggest your ridiculous, immaculate, color coded flashcards you’re so fond of.” She snorted, and the corner of his lips twitched into the almost smile she’d come to know. “If you do not feel comfortable, I would understand. Mr. Malfoy would do nearly as well.” She swallowed her smile, she’d have to remember to tell Draco that later. 

 

“I’m surprised that I’m not worried about it all, Professor.” 

 

His eyes softened for a single second. It was fleeting, but it had been there, and her stomach finally twisted because he wasn’t actually seeing her. He was seeing her mother. Hermione couldn’t hold it against him. She was the spitting image of Jean, her curly hair, that she could sort of force into pretty waves, her short stature, but when she was a child, she watched her mother in court. 

 

They had the same fire. 

 

“Well,” Snape pursed his lips, deciding what he would say next. “You’ve always had the habit of smashing through your obstacles like you were some type of natural disaster.” 

 

Hermione grinned. “Thank you, sir.” 

 

She was also quite sure he muttered, “There’s nothing natural about her.” 

 

“I suppose he’s not in Advanced Chemistry?” Hermione gestured to the textbook in his folded arm. 

 

“No, he’s in my regular classes. The tutoring for you should be easy, subject matter wise. Though I hope you’re patient.” He handed her the book, and she noted several pages had already been tabbed. “I will accompany you to the Great Hall. He will need to understand that this is non negotiable if he is to play in the game on Friday.” 

 

“I’ll do my best to prepare him, Professor.” Hermione paused. “Who is this student?” 

 

“Ron Weasley.” he replied easily and she felt like the wind had been knocked from her chest. “Miss Granger?” 

 

“ _ Fuck. _ ” she cursed loudly. 

 

Professor Snape, too stunned to hold back, grinned. “That will be one detention, Miss Granger. Served tomorrow before school begins in my classroom.” 

 

* * *

  
  


Draco had shoved past the two fools, shoving Oliver Wood off of him when he grappled him by his shoulder. 

 

Hermione hadn’t bothered to cast a look over her shoulder as she’d turned the corner. 

 

“Are you jealous of Weasley?” Finnigan was laughing, the sort of laughter that was mocking, and made Draco want to disregard anything he’d ever been told about holding his temper in check. 

 

At the moment, when he was angry and confused, he wanted to disregard everything she’d ever told him.

 

“No one would blame you.” Oliver mused, an amused smile sprawling across his face. “It’s you who has been there for Granger, isn’t it? All these years, and the two of you have never dated. It’s odd.” 

 

“She’s my best friend.” Draco ground out. The words were received by silence, and then, more fucking laughter. 

 

“You’re right there. It looks like that’s all you’ll ever be to her. You must be pissed for Weasley to step in as her knight in shining armor, giving her that necklace back.” 

 

His back was to Oliver as he spoke, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if they were face to face. His face remained impassive. “It’s a necklace,” Draco answered, too calmly. “All that really matters is she has it now. The fact here is,” he turned. “That some idiot like Weasley isn’t good enough for her, and I don’t trust that he used this to get closer to her.” 

 

“Not good enough for her?” Seamus snorted. “That is such a generic answer. Pray tell, who is good enough for her then?” 

 

His jaw was clenched as he fought the urge to just knock their heads together and be done with it. “Don’t know.” he finally answered, shrugging his shoulders. Though it was bothering him that his real answer wasn’t one he could say out loud. 

 

It would be the beginning of a new rumor. Because he didn’t think anyone was ever going to be enough for her. Hermione was a kind hearted girl, has been since forever, and while anyone would be lucky to have her, who was going to know all of her quirks? 

 

Because Christ, she had a ton of them. 

 

“You want to know what I think?” Oliver drawled. 

 

“Not particularly, but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyways.” 

 

“I think that you’ve gone through all this time being her best friend, and that was enough for you. How could you have known you wanted more? But now, she’s not so vulnerable after that McLaggen bastard fucked her over, and when someone takes an interest, she tells you it’s not your business. So, really, I think you’re just afraid of losing her before you ever had her.” 

 

His eyes narrowed. Oliver had taken a step back, bumping against Finnigan. “I don’t have her.” Draco spat. “She’s not a possession for me to own, and Hermione,” It nearly burned to say her name, knowing she had to be somewhere in the school, cursing his. “Makes her own choices. As her  _ friend _ , I’m allowed to tell her if those choices are ridiculous, and she can tell me to fuck right off.”

 

“Like she just did.” 

 

“Finnigan.” Malfoy growled. “You’re walking an extremely thin line.” 

  
Seamus held his hands up in a mock surrender. “Okay, but we’re just trying to help, while making fun of you at your expense sure, but have you ever thought you could lose her?” 

 

Two violent, uneven thuds of his heart against his rib cage gave Draco the answer, but he only snarled, “What is there to lose?” He walked past the two, making his way to the Great Hall where she probably wasn’t. 

 

Knowing her, she’d taken off to the library, or the the stairwell on the north side of the building, in the science wing. On the middle landing of the stairs, she liked to sit there, her back against the wall when she needed to be alone. Of course he knew exactly where to find her, but he didn’t. 

 

The moment she’d turned on her heel in front of him, awkwardly fumbling with her bag and smacking him in the mouth with that mop of curls, he’d just wanted to drag her back inside the tiny space until they figured it out. They never fought, and it made him uneasy. 

 

She would calm down, probably about the same time he did. He wasn’t known for being particularly pleasant when he was upset, a personality trait she not only took in stride, but also fought with her own temperament. 

 

He saw her side, he did. Granger wanted to be strong all on her own; self righteous was practically synonymous with her last fucking name, and she’d die before she let him tell her who she should trust. 

 

With as long as they had known the other, with as long as they had spent attached at the hip, it was surprising that he could count the number of real fights they’d had on one hand. 

 

One of the biggest ones being in their eight year, when he’d asked if she’d like to go to their ridiculous school dance as friends. He didn’t have an interest in any of this girls, but it was mainly because she was sad no one had asked her. He could say, just not to her, that the years between adolescence and puberty had not been as kind to her. 

 

But her father was a dentist, and her teeth were perfect, he remembered. 

 

She’d agreed, still glum that she was a last resort for anyone, and that Draco was only doing this as a favor. He had, “All the girls in their year at his disposal.”, she said nastily. 

 

And she’d been incredibly flustered when he replied with, “Maybe, but none of them are you.” She’d blushed, and he’d ruffled her hair, and truly, he’d never thought of it again. 

 

Viktor Krum had been a student at Hogwarts then, and has since transferred to another school across London. But then, he’d been a full head taller than Hermione, charming, and fuck, he was too nice. 

 

So nice it made Draco suspicious and he’d voiced that maybe it was some sort of joke, or a bet gone wrong. It was a horrible mistake, and he still shuddered  of the memory of Hermione punching in the nose in the middle of the dance. Because she’d bloody well gone with Krum, and he’d settled for going alone. 

 

Probably for the best, as it would have been humiliating to be decked in front of a date. 

 

Breaking his nose was not the worst of it, not by a long shot and he could still remember his panic when she’d started crying. While she could have a temper, she always got back at him by outsmarting him, playing a prank on him -maybe replacing his shampoo with Nair, she’d done that in their ninth year-, but not by physically accosting him. 

 

The bloody idiot had broken a bone in her hand because she, in fact, did not know how to punch someone. It had been an awful scene. 

 

_ “Did you have your thumb tucked into your fist?” Draco asked quickly, looking around. Theo was across from them, seconds from shoving his own fist into his mouth to stop his laughing.  _

 

_ “I don’t know!” she snapped, cradling her hand to her chest. “If you weren’t such a prick, I wouldn’t have punched you!”  _

 

_ “You broke my nose, Granger. We’re even now.” he deadpanned.  _

 

_ “We most certainly are not.” she growled. “Your stupid, pointy fucking nose broke my hand.”  _

 

_ “You broke your hand.” he pointed out, not helpful at all while her date came to her side, reaching for her right hand.  _

 

_ “On your face, which would not have happened if you weren’t so,”  _

 

_ “Oh, just shut up.” Draco grumbled, grabbing her by her good hand and leading her out of the hall. “I’ll call Dad. After your hand heals, I’ll teach you how to punch, so you can punch me again.”  _

 

_ “In the nose?” she asked quietly, and he paled at the grin on her face.  _

 

_ “Well, I was a prick, I suppose.”  _

 

He didn’t teach her how to punch, and told her that she wasn’t the type to settle things with her fists, though he had not doubted she could. Hermione had learned on her own. He was pretty sure he’d seen it in the history of her computer and had been saving it for a moment to give her hell for googling, “how do I punch someone without breaking my hand?” 

 

Once bitten, twice shy. 

 

He groaned to himself quietly. It was easy to get lost in the past, to think of all the times they’d fixed their issues, to make himself believe that this wasn’t any different, but it sort of was. They were older now, and he wished he hadn’t jumped to the conclusion that she would accept Weasley’s advances. It didn’t matter to him, didn’t concern him, but the image that had gone through his head so many times had a way of bubbling up. 

 

What if she did date that red headed idiot, and she got scared? What if it came down to when he wanted  _ more _ and what if it terrified her? 

 

He couldn’t confront the reality that she was handling the aftermath of her assault better than he was, and she was the victim. She was attacked; her clothes ripped and bloody and the dirt under her nails, and the blood that he could only assume was McLaggen’s, from the defensive wounds on his face in the days following. There was the nagging, repetitive thought that she could not date Weasley, though he didn’t understand why he felt so strongly about that. 

 

It certainly wasn’t because in this far fetched idea, that he was positive he’d dreamed up in his own head, Ron Weasley might become the one climbing in her window at night, and chasing nightmares away. It was not because the image of Hermione, wrapping herself around someone else, with her head on his chest, her hair falling over her shoulders, and her leg wedged between his made him nearly retch. 

 

It was  _ not. _

 

* * *

 

Weasley was silent when he sat at the table. Potter and Nott were exchanging uncomfortable glances as they eyed their own lunch, but they didn’t move. 

 

Draco was sure they hadn’t even taken a breath from the time he’d entered the Great Hall. “Weasley,” Draco addressed. “I was a prat.” His apology was cutting his tongue, as if there were razor blades in his mouth. “I’m glad you had her necklace; I’m glad she’s happy to have it back.” 

 

There was a look that flitted across the boy’s freckled face. He didn’t understand. How could he? Weasley had assumed that he would tear into him, had assumed the worst. He hadn’t thought of exactly how much the girl in question meant in his life, hadn’t counted on the fact that her happiness meant more than his own anger. 

 

“Okay.” he replied indifferently. “Heard about your confrontation with Oliver and Seamus.” 

 

A wicked grin spread across his lips; Weasley’s eyes widened at this. Of course that conversation had spread quickly, from his short walk to the Great Hall, and of course they’d made sure to include Weasley. 

 

“Did you?” The condescending remark slid out easily. Ron flinched, already regretting his attempt to be bold. “Then you should already know that I don’t think you’re nearly good enough for her. Lucky for you, that’s not my choice. It’s hers.” Ron deflated, relaxing visibly. “Don’t look like you’ve won.” he hissed. 

 

Potter’s eyebrows shot into his hairline in alarm. 

 

“I swear to God, if you ever get the chance, and you hurt her. If you make her cry and I find out, if you  _ push _ her limits, you will be fed through a straw.” 

 

“Malfoy,-” 

 

“Don’t interrupt me. If you make her happy, fine. You’ve seen me angry; you didn’t like it very much, did you?” Ron shook his head uneasily, but he looked like he was about to jump to his feet. “Not a word to Granger. Not one.” 

 

Draco leaned on the table, his elbows against the surface while he adjusted his jumper. No one else could have noticed, but it smelled just like her. From the night before, from getting tangled up in her. From waking up before her, but seeing her draped over him so comfortably, her smaller fingers clutched in his jumper when she spasmed in her sleep. 

 

He was not an emotionless person, even if it’s what everyone else saw. Hermione had always seen right through him, through the carefully placed walls, and through his anger that was only covering up what he needed to hide. 

 

She couldn’t know that he’d laid in her bed this morning, relaxed while she slept. He didn’t want her to ever know that he noticed how her nose crinkled in her sleep, or how sometimes she mumbled. She just couldn’t know, that he’d laid there in contentment because she was with him, her weight soft against his. 

 

Granger couldn’t know because he didn’t know what it meant, or what had suddenly shifted. 

 

The door to the room opened, and he felt the breath he was holding leave as she entered. Granger looked towards their table, her eyes going between him, and Weasley. She looked to be in a panic, whispering something to Professor Snape who walked two steps behind her. She’d drawn the sleeves of her shirt down, over her fists where she’d bunched the fabric. Her arms were wrapped around a textbook tightly. 

 

It was a telltale sign she was nervous, but the next second changed. 

 

And she was furious. 

 

He was nearly out of his chair in the instant, but her eyes found his and she held up her hand. Hermione mouthed, “No.” She’d collided with Cormac McLaggen, but she didn’t have that glum look about her. He’d only seen her fifteen minutes ago, in a storage closet where she had nearly been in tears.

 

But now, she looked like she’d had a really shitty day, and she had found someone to take it out on. 

 

Snape stood behind her, stoic, silent against their classmates that had stood from a nearby table, a circular one towards the back. Lavender Brown was wide eyed as Cormac said something to Hermione, bending down to her level, brushing her hair behind her ear. 

 

Draco could have snapped his neck for breathing in her direction, but he remained where he was. If he went over there, she’d be only semi upset that he didn’t let her defend herself. If she couldn’t do it, she’d rather fall on her face than ask for help. 

 

She replied with something that made the Padma and Lavender turn bright red, and their eyes widened. 

 

But the next thing is what he heard loud and clear as Hermione tried to walk away. He grabbed her by the strap of her backpack. “Running to Malfoy so he can save you again? Or will Weasley take another punch for you? When did you become so popular, you stupid,” 

 

She bit her lip, surely hard enough to draw blood, clutched the heavy blue textbook in her hand-he couldn’t make out the writing from so far away- and spun on her heel quickly. A collective silence fell over the room as she swiped the book across his face, right into the side of his nose as hard as she possibly could. 

 

“I don’t need anyone to save me!” she snarled. “What I need is for you to stay the fuck out of my face.” Draco wasn’t quite sure what he thought exactly, besides that she was like fire, and he hadn’t seen her so angry in a long time. 

 

Snape stepped between them, ending the altercation, holding her back as she wiggled to land another blow, and motioning for Lockhart to come across from the staff’s table and take the boy to the hospital wing. 

 

He was surprised when the professor led Hermione to their table, but then he noticed that it was a regular Chemistry book in her hands, clutched by pale fingers. “Well,” Snape drawled. “Do you feel any better after you broke Mr. McLaggen’s nose?” 

 

She smiled, just a bit. Their professor had been disgusted with Headmaster Dumbledore for allowing the boy to stay. “Somewhat.” she replied, exhaling. “Though I’m quite glad I used this,” Hermione held the book up. “Rather than punching him. It seems I’m not all that handy in a fight.” 

 

“Yet you’re resourceful. Another detention, however, as per school policy.” Hermione nodded, smiling at Draco. 

 

He was dumbfounded. 

 

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape began. “You’re failing my class.” 

 

“I know, I will,” 

 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full. It’s unbecoming.” Snape snapped. “However, the only thing you will be doing is listening to everything Miss Granger tells you. Memorize her insufferable flash cards, and pass the test of Friday morning, or you will not be in your rugby game.” 

 

He understood why she was panicking because he was too, but she couldn’t see that. She believed he was angry, which he was, but not for the reasons she thought. 

 

“Ron, we should really get to the library. We have a lot of work to do, so I hope you didn’t make any plans this week. We’re going to have to study all week if you want to pass.” Hermione’s voice was off, more high pitched than normal, and Draco was the only one who could recognize it. 

 

“You can also buy her lunch, since she’ll be sacrificing all of her free time to help you.” Snape rolled his eyes, whether he knew what was going on, Draco couldn’t tell. He walked away, casting a glance over his shoulder as he walked to the table he would eat his own lunch at. 

 

Ron Weasley looked like Christmas had come early, and Draco Malfoy could feel the dread in his stomach. 

 

He was  _ fucked.  _

 

* * *

  
  


Hermione chased him down after school. They had to talk it out, before she went insane. “Draco!” she shouted, and he slowed to a stop in front of her. The parking lot was still rather full, and he had to have heard her shoes scraping against the blacktop.“I know you’re mad, and I know I overreacted, and I know that you were just trying to protect me, and I know I shouldn’t have,” 

 

He clapped his hand over her mouth, his gray eyes wide behind the black rims of his glasses. “Granger, breathe.” She drew in a shuddering breath, though she was still panting from running. “I don’t even know what you said, you were talking too fast.” 

 

“I don’t want to fight with you.” she said simply. “It’s not right. It’s like half of me is missing, or broken, or I don’t know, but I loathe it.” 

 

“I agree.” he said slowly. “I won’t apologize for what I think about Weasley, but I am sorry for trying to tell you what to do. It wasn’t right of me.” 

 

“I overreacted.” Hermione bit her lip. “I think I was so upset, and then I took it out on you.” 

 

Draco chuckled. “Actually, you took it out on McLaggen.” She blushed, and stared at her shoes. “We’re okay.” 

 

She sighed in relief, her shoulders dropping. “Thank God.” she breathed. “I understand why you didn’t like it. The necklace, it taking two weeks, I get that. It is clear what he hoped would happen, which sort of did happen, but you should know something like that doesn’t sway me.” 

 

“Yeah, I know that. I got ahead of myself, Granger. When, or if you choose to date isn’t my choice. I’ll make it my business, but I admit I overstepped when I acted controlling.” 

 

“I don’t think you did, actually.” She took in his expression, the shock, his eyes widening-she’d always thought they were so pretty. “It’s pretty normal for you, really. Especially with someone trying to rape me, and then putting me in the hospital. If it were you, and I thought someone might try to take advantage of you, I’d ruin them.” 

 

“Jesus,” he muttered. 

 

“I wanted to make sure we were fine. You’re my best friend, and I would never want that to change. I have to go to Ginny’s to help Ron, but I can’t spend the night discussing Chemistry vocabulary with you on my mind.” 

 

He laughed loudly then, startling her. “I can take you, if you’d like.” 

 

“Thank you, but Harry is dropping me off. He said he’s going by there anyways, but do you have plans tonight? Anything important?” He shook his head, drawing his keys out from his pocket. “Could you,” Hermione stopped in the middle of her sentence, looking around the parking lot. “Would you sleep at my house again tonight?” she asked quietly. 

 

“Yeah.” he breathed out. “Text me when your dad is asleep. I’d rather not get shoved out of the window.” Hermione giggled, squeezing his wrist. 

 

“I have to go meet Harry, but if you think of anything new, we can talk again tonight.” He could only nod as she walked away, nearly hitting the mirror on the car beside his. “Fuck.” she muttered, scurrying away when she heard him laughing. 

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things I’d like to say. Um, first of all, you guys are amazing and so, so encouraging. I admit to being vain, and biased in my own work, but really, I never expected the reaction to this story through this website and through FFN. I feel as if I’m living in some sort of dream where people love my writing and I’ve actually accomplished something.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway. I’d like to say this this story is endgame Dramione. There are side pairings, the biggest being Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, but yes, she will end with Draco. That’s all I can really say because if you haven’t noticed, I LOVE angst. And I super love taking characters to the brink. That being said, if you dislike Ron and Hermione, it’s going to happen if you can’t tell. He’s bashed in a lot of fics- I did it in Unsteady-, but I wanted to write him as a good character. I don’t ship them, at all.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m taking seven days off from work from the eleventh to the seventeenth! Which means I’m going to write entirely too much, and I’ll blow up your emails. Hope that’s cool.
> 
>  
> 
> And, most importantly, regarding Cormac McLaggen. He’s an asshole that will be handled. Hermione was a victim of sexual assault, though she does not see herself as a victim. I do see a version of Dumbledore that would have granted him a second chance, but he’s overstepped boundaries once more, and Lucius Malfoy will hardly accept that. I figure it must have seemed like I was brushing him off, and I can’t say that he’s not in the story later, but he deserves the worst.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I’d like to have an idea of how long this ends up, but I have no fucking clue. I’m kind of going along with you. (I have an outline, but the outline ends where Hermione becomes aware of Draco’s feelings, so that’s fun.)
> 
>  
> 
> So, if you read this, you’re the best, and have oodles of patience. I’m on tumblr at mrsren96. I like meeting new people and interacting. AND ALSO: please tell me if you’d like to see more of Draco POV, cause I sure as fuck do.


	8. Chapter Eight

It wasn’t the first time she’d been to the Weasleys’ home. After their family had moved, enrolling Ron in his last year and Ginny in her second to last in Hogwarts, she’d become rather close with the youngest female of the family. However she hadn’t foreseen the awkwardness of her older brother fancying her, and she hadn’t expected to end up tutoring him after being made aware of the fact. 

 

She counted herself as lucky that Harry did not say one word about the strange day she’d just had. 

 

Their home was a one story, brick, and it felt like home every time she stepped inside. Molly Weasley, though she insisted Hermione address her as Molly, was a bit of a fanatic when it came to baking, or cooking. The house always smelled differently. And on this Monday, on a chilly day in October, it smelled like brownies. She caught the Weasley matriach smiling her way when her stomach grumbled. 

 

Ron took her bag for her, tossing it on the couch, completely missing how she winced as he threw her things around. She took a seat on the couch, putting her back to the woven quilt that was hung over the back of it. It looked out of place, but most things in the house did. Mr. Weasley liked to collect not just one thing, but everything. There were knick knacks everywhere, but the quilt had been made by Ginny’s grandmother. 

 

Hermione could see the appeal of it, looking at each individual strand as she pretended to not hear Molly discussing how returning her necklace had gone with her youngest son. She wanted to groan when she heard Ginny murmur, “She kissed him on the cheek, Mum.” 

 

She could have died right then.

 

Their home was in a word, cozy. In additional words, it gave the illusion of being smaller than it really was. With raising seven children, a fact that made Hermione want to faint, she would never want that many children, it would have been a full time job to clean as they walked. A job Molly didn’t do, and would sooner club Fred or George left their practice shoes out  _ again.  _

 

On the rack near their front door, there were several coats, none of the hooks used on the stand as everyone had just tossed their jackets over it as they passed by. Beside that, there was a mess of shoes, all different sizes and pairs that had been easily disgarded as they’d entered. 

 

Across from the couch she was on was a recliner, one she’d curled up on while she and Ginny watched sappy romance movies and ate ice cream when Ginny had been dumped by none other than Harry Potter. 

 

It was a touchy subject.  

 

It was a coincidence, or luck, or whatever she’d like to call it, when her phone rang with a video call. Draco’s name appeared on the screen, a picture of them popping up. His arm was slung around her shoulders. Her hair was falling from it’s hair tie in at least a dozen places, but she liked their smiles. 

 

Hermione answered, turning down the volume. “Hello?” she whispered, attempting to not draw attention from the three in the brightly lit kitchen, just mere feet from where she sat. 

 

“Hey,” he replied loudly. She heard the fan in the background in his room, turned on the highest setting, seemingly out of character as he was always freezing, just like she was. “Do you know where my charger is?” 

 

She snorted. “For your phone? It’s probably beside your bed.” 

 

“No, for my laptop.” 

 

Hermione looked up as Ron entered the living room, coming round the antique table in front of her to sit on  the couch beside her. It dipped beneath his weight, shifting her sideways. And as his hand entered the frame, his arm nestled on the top of the couch behind her, she shot a dirty look at him. “Your laptop charger?” Hermione repeated. “Have you checked downstairs? You had it out yesterday afternoon.” 

 

Ron only produced a lopsided grin after she’d shot him a dirty look. 

 

“I already checked there. No luck. Did you hide it?” 

 

“Why would I hide it? I would already know you’d call asking me where it was anyway.” she paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek and thinking for a moment. “It’s in the kitchen.” 

 

“What? Why would I,-” 

 

“I was cooking, remember? I had your laptop and the charger on the countertop. It’s plugged in by the toaster. Did you even look before calling me?” 

 

He bit his lip, contemplating whether he would actually tell her the truth. “Not really, no.” She laughed then. 

 

“Of course you didn’t. I have to go now, but later, okay?” He nodded without a word, and for that she was grateful. Because in the last eight hours, she’d been thrust into a tug of war between two males that she couldn’t deal with. 

 

“Hermione,” 

 

“Define a compound.” she cut him off, while unzipping her backpack and without looking up at him. She shifted away from his arm that he’d laid on the back of the couch. Her back was to the red armrest of the small sofa they were sitting on, and she crossed her legs. When she did finally look up at him, she was met with a blank expression. “Can you define a compound?” she asked softly. 

 

“Yes, no. I know what a compound is, but I forget on the spot.” Ron told her. 

 

“Professor Snape told me.” Hermione felt uncomfortable, not that she expected him to lean forward, or touch her, or any of the things she’d believed she would fear. No, she was more uncomfortable with the elephant in the room, that she would choose to ignore until it crushed her. “He mentioned you had difficulties with the quizzes, particularly the vocabulary.” 

 

“When atoms of two or,” he stopped in the middle, but she brightened at that. He was at least halfway there. 

 

“A compound is when atoms of two or more elements are combined.” Hermione finished, taking in his nod as she fished the notecards from the inside pocket of her bag. 

 

“You really made flash cards?” he asked her then, a smile stretching across his face. He had dimples when he smiled, a small trait she’d never taken the time to notice. It was adorable. He had freckles, he was at least a foot taller than her, but perhaps only an inch taller than Draco. 

 

Ron slouched when he sat down, his navy blue t shirt loose around his lanky form. His jeans were stained with paint, stains his mother would have scolded him over. 

 

“Professor Snape thought it might help. Do you think it’s a waste of time?” Ron looked as if he couldn’t decide if this was a trick question.  He clasped his hands in his lap, eyeing her cautiously. “There’s no wrong answer. It just helped me when I couldn’t remember.” He scoffed at that, growing silent as her eyes narrowed. “I have high marks now because I work hard. In earlier years however, I had a difficult time remembering.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

Hermione tried not to smile as the awe on his face, or the way his eyes lit up when he smiled. It was disconcerting to be the center of attention. “Oh, yes.” she sighed, sorting through the cards and organizing them on the table. “In seventh year, it was our history class that really got me. Professor Umbridge was a foul beast.” 

 

“Harry’s mentioned her once before.” 

 

“I don’t doubt that.” she replied darkly. “He spent a month’s worth of detention in her classroom. She shouldn’t have been allowed children, but that’s of no consequence. She was awful to me, honestly. The only way to get back at her was to prove her wrong, so I did. So, flashcards?” 

 

“Flashcards.” Ron agreed, smiling brightly and turning to face her completely from across the couch. “You don’t think I’m a lost cause?” 

 

She laughed. “Hardly. I’m sure Theo was worse than you, and I got him to passing within three weeks. Don’t worry too much. You have my undivided attention so you can be at your rugby game.” 

 

“I’m sure you’ll regret it.” he said nonchalantly, his smile dimming. 

 

Hermione decided on the spot she much preferred when he smiled at her, telling him so before she could stop her outburst. Her cheeks grew hot as he chuckled. “Shut up.” she muttered. “Or I will give you all of the wrong answers.” 

 

* * *

  
  


It was strange to her, spending nearly all of her free time with Ron Weasley. They had never been close, she’d never taken the time to get to know him beyond their pleasantries, or her congratulating him at their various sports events. He was likable, hilarious actually. The pair of them had been hushed more times by Madam Pince, the librarian, than she cared to recount. 

 

It felt wonderful. 

 

He made her laugh, he’d made her blush a few times, sometimes both at once. And, Draco had been silent in his opinion of any of her extracurricular activities. The first time she’d brought it up was halfway through the week, that Wednesday after he’d slipped into her bedroom just after eleven. It had been pouring outside, water dripping onto her floor from his jumper and his hair. The curtains blew backwards from the wind, water spattering over her carpet as he forced her window shut and closed the curtains. 

 

But Draco had just pulled the garment over his head, balling it up and tossing it into a corner without a word to her. She’d sat on the bed quietly, observing him with her legs tucked under her. He’d moved to her closet, pulling one of his hoodies from a hanger and putting it on, covering his bare chest. And he hadn’t said a word when she asked if he was okay. 

 

“You told me we were okay.” Hermione whispered quietly, watching him roll backward to turn off her lamp. “You’ve been rather distant.” 

 

“Shit, Granger, I’m just busy.” he replied, throwing his arm over his face “Would you just go to sleep?” 

 

“No.” she replied, staying in her spot in the middle of the bed, poking his hip. “You’re still angry about Ron.” 

 

“I’m not upset about Weasley. I don’t care about that.” 

 

“Theo said you were jealous.” Her statement was met with silence, and she tugged on his sleeve, prying his arm away to see his eyes. “Not like that, of course. I mean he wondered if you were afraid we would grow apart, as friends. You know that would never happen, right?” 

 

“I hardly need you to reassure me. Who else could put up with you all the time?” She flinched. “Granger,” 

 

“Ron likes me enough, you know.” she murmured. “He puts up with me, as you put it.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Fuck.” Draco rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I might be worried about being replaced, but I never admitted that.” 

 

“You’re so stupid.” Hermione shook her head. “We’ve been attached at the hip since we were born, Malfoy. You taught me how to ride a bike, and I taught you how to color inside the lines. There’s not a person on this planet that could come between us. Don’t you know me better than that?” 

 

“All I’m saying is I’m the only one who has ever dated. Not to say any of my girlfriends particularly liked you, but he loathes me. Absolutely.” 

 

She paused. “Do you not trust me to choose you?” Hermione asked and he groaned, smothering himself with a pillow. “Stop that, talk to me.” She ripped the pillow from his face, leaning over him, curls brushing against his cheeks. There were dark circles under his eyes. Had he been sleeping at all? “I always knew you’d be there for me, even if you had a girlfriend. I never cared about that.” 

 

“I don’t,” he broke off. “I don’t know what to tell you, Granger. I’m not great with emotions.” She snorted. “Would you shut up? I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me, so let’s just leave it at that.” 

 

“Why don’t you like him? You’re acting as if I’m about to hop into bed with him, Draco. He’s a friend. Maybe he’ll be more in the future, but you’re not like this. You don’t hover.” 

 

“If you’re saying maybe he’ll be more, then you have already made up your mind.” he pointed out. “It’s nothing. It’s better if you let it go.” 

 

“At least tell me why you don’t like him.” she insisted, rolling him back over when he moved away from her, holding him down by his arms. “If you even think about rolling away again, I’ll just climb on top of you.” she threatened. 

 

He rolled his eyes at this threat. “He’s a prick.” Draco said simply, staring up at her. 

 

She looked for any signs he was lying, the subtle way the right side of his mouth ticked up. “Elaborate; he’s been wonderful to me.” 

 

“Bloody fantastic.” he grumbled. “He waited two weeks to give you a necklace that belonged to your dead mother, and he was hoping it would make you feel a certain way about him,” 

 

“I know that, and I’ve forgiven him for that. It doesn’t make any sense for you to be so angry about it. Draco, he’s not a bad person if you would just get to know him.” 

 

“Last time I checked, you were the one that wanted to date him, not me. I have no interest in getting to know him. I don’t care about how funny he is, or how he opens the sodding door for you.” 

 

“So you have been watching us then.” 

 

Draco’s mouth clamped shut. “Bitch.” he muttered. 

 

“Please just be nice to him. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.” Hermione told him quietly, squeezing his forearm as she laid down behind him. “Draco, just do it for me.” she whispered, fully unaware of how he crumbled. 

 

“Just fucking go to sleep.” he growled. 

  
  


* * *

 

She’d smacked him Friday morning, right across the face. 

 

Completely by mistake though. 

 

“What the fuck.” he grumbled, grabbing her by her wrists and hauling her off of him. Draco took a look at the alarm clock. Half past seven, her father would already be gone. “Granger!” he yelled in her ear, chuckling to himself. She’d jumped in his hold, and he’d let her take a tumble into the cold floor. 

 

“Did you just throw me in the floor?” she asked, her eyebrow arched as she laid on her back against the carpet. “You’re just a delight in the mornings, Malfoy.” 

 

“You hit me. Maybe you should nap before you punch people because you hit like a fucking man.” Draco snapped at her, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “It hurts.” He rubbed his nose, checking his fingers for blood. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Her phone rang beside him, a picture flashing across the screen that made him want to break the pretty lamp next to him. “Who is it?” 

 

“Weasley.” he said, tossing her the phone and walking to the bathroom. “I’ll just be in here pretending I don’t exist so your boyfriend doesn’t get the idea I’ve been shagging you all night.” 

 

Her cheeks heated up as he laughed at her, shaking his head as he wrenched that door open like it had offended his mother. “Hello?” 

 

There was a rustling on the other end, and two low voices that were the twins. With the back of her hand, she muffled her laughter while she waited for a response. “Hermione.” He sounded out of breath. “Stop trying to steal my phone, Fred. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

 

“Is this a bad time?” Hermione asked, crawling to lay on her bed upside down, halfway hanging off the bed. “I mean, you called me, but I can call you back.” she offered, only to hear Fred uttering, ‘you are such a chicken’ in the background. The chicken impression by one George Weasley was more than she could take as she laughed so hard she nearly cried. 

 

“No, it’s fine. They’re just gits.” he told her. “What are you doing?” 

 

“I am laying halfway off of my bed, it’s only a matter of time before I fall on my head.” Hermione answered, looking towards the bathroom door. Draco had turned the water on as soon as he’d entered, and she knew he couldn’t hear their conversation, but something made her uneasy. 

 

She pushed it away. 

 

“Why don’t you just move then? I can’t have anything happen to that pretty little head of yours, or Snape will fail me in Chemistry.” 

 

“Right.” she giggled. “The only reason you like is my brain, right? I’m sure Professor Snape could find another tutor for you.” 

 

“I’d rather he not.” There it was. Of course there had been thinly veiled flirting on his end for the better part of the week, but she was always surprised when he said something sweet to her. “How do you feel about making a bet?” The background noise was gone. 

 

He must have walked outside of his house to avoid his older brothers. “I typically lose bets, so not very well. What did you have in mind?” The door of the bathroom was pushed open, and her eyes widened. 

 

Draco was fucking with her. With that stupid smirk planted on his face, and the fact that he could have dressed in her bathroom, but he’d exited with a towel wrapped around his waist. They were incredibly close; she’d seen him without a shirt before, but she swore his chest had not looked like that the last summer they spent at the pool. 

 

“He’s talking to you. Don’t be such a pervert.” Draco told her. 

 

Hermione tore her eyes away from him, after lingering for a last moment on the defined lines that she knew had come from rugby and the rigorous exercise their coach put them through. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I spaced out for a minute there.” Hermione laughed at herself, her tone light as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

 

“I have a quiz today. If I pass, they’ll let me play tonight.” 

 

She nodded, though he couldn’t see it. It was a miracle he hadn’t video called her instead like he had over the week. If he’d seen Draco Malfoy in her bedroom, looking like  _ that _ she probably would have been a permanent scarlet. “Yes, I remember. We’ve been working on that all week. Do you want to go over it again now?” 

 

“No, I think you’ve prepared me as much as possible.” he answered. “Hermione, it’s not a secret that I like you. And I would like to get to know you better if you’d let me.” he paused, waiting for her to saying something if she didn’t agree so he didn’t fully embarrass himself. 

 

“I think I would like that.” Hermione replied. A shirt landed on her face, one Draco had ripped from the closet and thrown her way. She opened her eyes to find him tapping his watch, mouthing  _ ten minutes _ . “What does that have to do with a bet?”

 

“I wanted to make a bet. If I pass, would you go out with me? Just the once if you don’t feel comfortable, or I mean, not at all if you don’t feel comfortable. Shite.” 

  
She laughed loudly, waving Draco off as he threatened in whispers to dress her himself. “I would like that, I think.” she repeated her earlier words. “What do I get if I win, and you fail the quiz?” 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

She bit her lip, debating. It would be so forward, and she couldn’t even be there to see him stutter as he tried to think of something smooth to say back. “What if I want to go out together either way?” 

 

For a painful second, there is silence. 

 

And then there’s Ron, saying, “Fucking absolutely.” in her ear so loudly she laughs in his excitement. 

 

And across the room the vase on her desk has somehow fallen, hitting the window sill and breaking into two pieces as it fell to the floor. Draco said nothing, but mouthed an apology about the vase. She watched as he scooped up the pieces, grumbling to himself while he left the room. 

 

“Tonight?” he asked her. 

 

“No, I always hang out with everyone at Malfoy’s after the games. You should come by the way, but maybe we could do something before?” Hermione found she was perhaps to excited in the way she squirmed, successfully toppling off the edge of the bed and landing with a huff as her back met the floor. The realization that she didn’t wait until tomorrow, when they would have more time on a Saturday also gave it away. 

 

“Yeah, but I don’t think Malfoy would invite me over to his house.” 

 

“Maybe not on his own, but I’m inviting you, and he’ll be civil for me.” she answered. “I can’t go between the two of you, I won’t. He’s my closest friend, so if the two of you can’t at least be civil,” 

 

He cut her off. “I know, Hermione. He’s your best friend.” No mistaking the little green monster on those words, but she let it go. “I don’t expect you to do anything, I just don’t want to walk into his house and end up on the receiving end of one of his temper tantrums.” 

 

“Don’t worry about him.” she said all too cheerfully. “I have to get dressed now. Malfoy is downstairs and he’s probably about to kill me if I’m not ready within five minutes.” At his harsh intake of breath, she added, “Draco lives by me. He takes me to school every morning, this is a normal thing.” 

 

She knew it wasn’t a normal thing for him to sleep over every night, something she was sure her father was aware of. It was normal to them though; it had grown impossible to sleep without him in the bed, even if he was in a foul mood and didn’t speak to her at all. It was the fact that she knew Ron would think differently that kept her from being forthcoming in that. 

 

Draco’s presence wasn’t something she would give up, and no one would see it her way, so she kept her mouth shut. 

  
  


 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter. I had thought it was too boring, but Christina tells me it’s definitely not. It’s a bit weird writing Ron, but it’s fun. Even though I don’t ship Ron and Hermione, it’s silly and fun to write the two of them, for now. Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

* * *

 

Hermione waited anxiously with her back against the blue lockers, Harry at her side and rummaging through hers. “I swear I left Snape’s assignment in here.” he muttered. “Did you throw it away? He’ll kill me.” 

 

“Why is it in my locker instead of yours?” she replied, unfolding her arms, only to cross them over chest again. Ron would walk down this stretch of the corridor any moment, and she would know if he had passed or failed the quiz he desperately needed to pass. Her cheeks heated up, luckily Harry didn’t notice. She had been so forward earlier that morning, and she suddenly felt nervous. 

 

Boyfriend was hardly a word in her own vocabulary. Beyond her date with Viktor Krum that had been cut short, and the disaster of McLaggen, she was forced to admit she hadn’t had that type of relationship. The one person she would ask for advice happened to be Ron’s sister. 

 

It would be mortifying. Luna’s advice, while she realized it nearly always hit the mark, never made much sense when she gave it. 

 

“Yours is more organized,” Harry answered shortly. “Plus, it’s closer to his classroom.” Hermione pushed the locker door, giggling when it smacked him in the head. “Really, Mione?” 

 

“Have you talked to Ron this morning?” She chewed on her bottom lip, fumbling for her lip balm in the same moment he froze and leaned backwards to take a look at her. 

 

“No,” he began slowly. “Have you?” Hermione spluttered, his grin growing. “You’re awfully red, Hermione. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Harry was on his knees on the white tile, his right hand gripping the door. 

 

“Um, no, of course not. I was just wondering how he felt about taking his quiz. How confident he felt, of course. I know that he was nervous.” 

 

His fingers tapped against the door. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.” he concluded and returned to his search. “We’ll talk about this later.” His voice echoed against the metal confines of the locker. 

 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” she insisted, uncapping the strawberry lip balm and applying a generous amount to her lips. 

 

“Then why did you pull out chapstick when your lips aren’t even chapped?” She kicked the locker when he snickered, not so quietly. “Violence, violence,” he tssked at her. “He felt as confident as he normally does with Professor Snape, but someone had put him in a good mood.” 

 

She blanched. His voice had taken a turn, rising to a higher, teasing lilt. 

 

“I suspect this someone has curly hair, brown eyes and is wearing a Kylo Ren shirt.” Hermione glanced down, unaware he was watching, and looked back up to see that stupid, triumphant smirk. 

 

“I’m not wearing that shirt today.” she swallowed. 

 

“No, but you still had to check.” Harry told her, rising to his feet with a crumpled worksheet in his hand. 

 

“You didn’t even finish that!” she snapped, snatching it from his hand and looking it over. “Harry James Potter, all you did was write your name.” she paused, one eyebrow raising. “You misspelled your first name. How in the world can you misspell Harry?” 

 

“I, uh,” he scratched the back of his head, knocking his glasses askew. “I might have been drinking with Malfoy and Nott when that happened.” 

 

“You were working on Chemistry homework while you were drinking?” she deadpanned. “That’s absurd, I think you just forgot how to spell your name.” He shook his head. “Really? Pray tell, in what instance would you do homework after taking too many shots? Don’t give me that look. I know how you are Mr. I Can Outdrink Everyone Ever Potter.” 

 

“Daphne Greengrass was there, and Theo said she likes smart men.” 

 

Hermione frowned, looking at the paper in her hand again. “Harry, this was due a month ago. This isn’t even the paper you need to find.” He groaned. “Tell me how this went with Daphne Greengrass though.” Hermione joked. 

 

It had apparently gone well, she thought, since his face lit up. “She laughed, but I haven’t talked to her since.” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Why don’t you stop asking me about my love life and focus on yours?” Her lips parted to debate the existence of just that, but he gripped her by her shoulders and spun her around. 

 

“Hello.” she squeaked as she came face to face with Ron. 

 

Harry was laughing behind her, no doubt holding his stomach from laugher as she made a fool out of herself. 

 

Ron was grinning down at her, whether it was just from seeing her, or the packet he was gripping in his left hand, she was unsure. Hermione fidgeted with the necklace around her neck. His red hair was disheveled, completely out of sorts as if he’d raked his fingers through it during the last class in frustration. 

 

She almost wanted to reach out and thread her fingers through the strands. They looked as if they would be soft against her skin, but she refrained. His dimples were showing, as they always did when he smiled too widely. 

 

Hermione jumped ever so slightly when he dropped his backpack, a ratty red bag, that he’d said had belonged to Fred at one point, to the floor. He moved forward, wrapping his arms around her waist in a strong hold that made her squirm, but only for a moment until she remembered just who this was. Still her hands remained flat on either side of his collarbone, not having slid her arms around his neck just yet. “Did you pass?” she asked. 

 

“Bloody perfect score.” he boasted and she hugged him tightly, forcing the breath out of him as he exhaled near her ear. 

 

She shivered as his breath was hot against the shell of her ear. “That’s fantastic. I told you that you could do it.” Ron’s embrace lingered; he swung her around once before placing her back on her feet, the bottoms of her trainers meeting the tile. 

 

“It was all thanks to you.” Hermione’s laugh drew the attention of Padma and Parvati from across the corridor as Ron tapped her on the nose. “I would have failed if you hadn’t helped me.” 

 

She shook her head, denying that. “It was all you, Ron. I just helped you remember.” He tucked a curl behind her ear, and it seemed the roles had been reversed, as she was the one constantly blushing instead of him. 

 

“I won.” he stated, and she nodded, perhaps too eagerly. “Still good for after school then?” 

 

“Absolutely.” She could hear how breathless she sounded, could feel the butterflies in her stomach, and the the way her heart was beating so fast she could feel the pressure between her ears. “What would you like to do?” 

 

“We could go out to eat if you like?” 

 

She debated it for a second. “You could come over to my house,” she began, watching his eyes widen and decided to nip that train of thought immediately. “My dad will be home, but I would feel more comfortable with someone else being close by if that’s alright with you.” 

 

“Of course. I understand.” he told her, and she watched carefully to see if his shoulders fell, or to see if there were any signs of visible disappointment. 

 

Hermione realized that he probably didn’t understand at all, but it wasn’t anything that had to be explained. He knew she wasn’t as she’d been before the beginning of the school year, happy to alone with anyone because she didn’t have a fear then. 

 

“I can make dinner before the game, and we can watch a movie, or just talk.” she suggested. 

 

She’d won him over when she mentioned cooking, and she silently thanked whoever was listening that it had worked. “Sounds great.” he agreed. “I’ll see you later then. Bye, Harry.” 

 

Hermione froze. She’d forgotten about him, having assumed he’d continued onto Lockhart’s without her. Once Ron’s footsteps could no longer be heard, she winced in anticipation 

 

“You have a date?” Harry yelled. 

 

“Oh, tell the entire school, why don’t you?” she grumbled. “Yes, I have a date. Shut up.” He walked alongside her as they passed the Patil twins, who were still eavesdropping. Even if Harry hadn’t announced it to the entire school, it would have spread around anyways, she supposed. 

 

“This is exciting!” he replied to her, looping his arm through hers. “Wait, should I not do that?” he asked her seriously, detaching himself from her.    
  


She shrugged. “I would never look at you that way, and I think he knows that, but if it makes you more comfortable to not touch me, that’s fine by me.” 

 

Harry pulled on her sleeve, stopping her for a moment and leaning down to whisper to her as students slipped past them. “Does he know Draco has been sleeping at your house every night since-,” 

 

“No, he doesn’t.” she admitted, cutting him off and feeling the smallest amount of guilt pierce her stomach. “I don’t plan to tell him either. Draco is my best friend, and I can’t sleep without him there.” 

 

“I understand that, but I don’t think Ron will at all. Malfoy has been sleeping in your bed as well, and that’s going to make him think there’s something there.” 

 

“I know that,” she replied, walking briskly to their next class. “I already feel guilty about it, but I don’t sleep if he’s not there, Harry. What am I supposed to do?” 

 

“Maybe sleep medication?” he offered. “You said your medication was helping with the anxiety, right? If your doctor knew, I bet he’d prescribe those. Mum used them.”

 

“Does she still?” Harry shook his head. 

 

It was a thought for another time, for as long as she could push it off. Medication would work, put her to sleep and keep her asleep through the nights that seemed to last days. 

 

She just doubted she would prefer medication over Draco Malfoy climbing through her window. And she doubted even more she would be able to explain herself.

* * *

  
  
  


After seeing how her own best friend had avoided her throughout the entire day, having barely said one sentence to her during lunch, her mood had grown sour. Hermione didn’t bother to call him out on it this time. If he wanted to give her the cold shoulder, she suspected it was over Ron Weasley,  _ again, _ then so be it. It was not her job to constantly resolve their problems, and she was not going to be the only one who made the effort. 

 

That had been what she thought, all the way up until she saw Pansy Parkinson pressed against his car, pinned by Draco’s body, one of his hands buried in her hair and the other low on her hip. Her eyes had widened, and Ron’s grip on her hand had tightened, just enough for her to notice. 

 

It appeared as if the two had never parted with the way he was about to shag her against the black sports car he’d received for his birthday from his father earlier that year. The same car she’d nearly wrecked the day after. 

 

“Well, that explains why he’s ignoring me, I suppose.” Hermione’s voice was thick. Ron led her past the two, still holding her hand. “Let go of me please.” she asked quietly, trying not to focus on the way his face fell. “Touch makes it worse sometimes.” she explained vaguely. Hermione didn’t think to explain that it was her anger, then her developing panic attack. “I can see it on your face, but Draco and I aren’t together like that. We never have been.” 

 

“I don’t get why you would be so upset about him snogging Parkinson is all.” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Who cares where he sticks his,” 

 

“Do not finish that sentence.” she told him. “Draco can shag whoever he likes, and it’s not my business. I hate that girl. I was in the hospital and she tried to convince him to just come see me later, even though I needed him then, and now he’s seconds from ripping her skirt up in the parking lot?” 

 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry I accused you of anything.” Ron blurted when her eyes began to water. “I’m not going to pretend to understand whatever weird relationship the two of you have, but he’s being a shite friend if he’s picking her.” 

 

“He is  _ not   _ picking Pansy Parkinson over me.” she snarled. “I’m his best friend, and she is just a vile, vile person.” 

 

“I’m sure the two of you will talk later, and you can tell him how it made you feel. Malfoy will understand. As much as I don’t like the guy personally, I would be blind if I couldn’t admit he cares about your feelings. So maybe not be so angry with him yet? He can’t fix it if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.” 

 

“That was extremely well thought out.” Hermione told him. She knocked her shoulder against his arm as they walked down the sidewalk. 

 

Her parents had bought the two story home before she’d been born, and they had chosen the neighborhood based on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s suggestion. The neighborhood was only a fifteen minute walk from Hogwarts, the school that had already been decided before she or Draco had ever been a thought. 

 

Leaves were turning from the dark, forest green that Draco liked the most, to the autumn leaves Hermione preferred. She liked the cold wisps of air that came in the fall, the way the leaves fell to the ground as it turned to winter. Hermione slipped her hands into the pockets of her knit jacket, grabbing her cell phone for a moment, wanting to pull it out just so she could ask Draco what he was doing. 

 

Instead she chose to push it out of her mind, listening intently as Ron told her about his game tonight. While listening to him explain the finer parts of Rugby, a game she found she would probably never understand, she stepped on the crisp leaves that had already tumbled to the ground. 

 

Ron’s lips curved into a small smile each time she took an awkward step out of the way to step on a leaf that was in front of him. She’d nearly tripped over his feet when he made it into a competition of who could get to the leaves first. 

 

As if she would have won normally, but he let her slip in front of him, as he pretended to have a cramp in his calf. Her laughter was light against the wind as they crossed in front of the first house. 

 

Ron’s eyes lingered on the appearances of the neighborhood, as if he were guessing how much each home had cost, compared to his own across the city. Hermione didn’t mention it as she slipped his hand into his pocket, taking him by surprise, and lacing her fingers through his. “You’re thinking too much.” she told him quietly. 

 

“Nice neighborhood, that’s all.” he replied. 

 

“I like yours more. It feels more like a home, rather than a hotel.” Hermione could feel that it was a half lie. Her room felt warm at night, safe, but any other time it just reminded her that Jean Granger was dead and she’d never been a good daughter. “I like your mum particularly. She’s kind, and has always made me feel at home.” 

 

“Living with three siblings is a headache.” Ron joked, drawing their hands from his pocket and swinging them. “At least Percy left for university this year. He’s a right terror.” 

 

“So I’ve heard. At least Fred and George should move out soon, right? Then it will be just you and Ginny.” Ron scoffed at that. “Watch it, that’s my friend you’re talking about.” 

 

“She’s worse than Percy. Percy made a bathroom schedule. Ginny just takes an hour in there. God knows what she’s doing, because she never looks any different when she comes out.” 

 

“Don’t mention that to her.” Hermione told him.

 

“He must have left her.” Ron whispered to her, nodding towards the driveway they were about to pass in front of. 

 

Draco had just pulled into the driveway, and was stepping out of the car while Theo climbed out from the passenger side. The black haired girl nowhere in sight. Still, it was odd. He was nothing if not a creature of habit, and he always drove down the road she had just walked along. Draco had gone another route home, the only one being through the school zone he struggled to avoid. 

 

His eyes dropped to where her smaller hand was slipped into Ron’s, and narrowed. 

 

Under his glare, Ron squeezed her hand and twirled her around, catching her off guard. It had worked, however, to make her smile and giggle once more. “Again,” she murmured, and he spun her back into his side. “You’re doing that to piss him off.” 

 

He smiled though. “Is that what you think?” 

 

Hermione kept her head up. “It would appear so.” She took another look over her shoulder, watching Draco unlock the glass front door. He yanked the door open, nearly busting the curved handle before vanishing from her sight.  

 

The Malfoys’ was a two story home like her own, but white on the outside with black trimming. It was utterly gorgeous, in a gothic way. She’d always loved it, the columns in front of the house, and the bushes that framed the porch. Hermione had spent many days on the porch swing with her nose in a book. 

 

“This is me up here on the right.” Hermione pointed to her house, the brick two story that her mother had insisted upon in the early days of her marriage. On the mailbox, there was her surname GRANGER, on the side. She sighed in relief when her father’s gray four door sedan was in the driveway. 

 

Otherwise, she would have made them sit outside instead. “So, when you meet my dad, he’s really not intimidating at all. He’s just concerned.” 

 

“Just concerned. Got it.” 

 

He walked two steps behind her as she led him up the cobblestone pathway through the front yard. Crookshanks lounged on a rock near the door, landing on his feet as she bent down to scratch his head. The orange tabby followed her, close to her heels as she pulled her keys from her pocket. “Crooks, don’t hiss at him.” she grumbled. “I apologize, he doesn’t love people.” 

 

He only nodded as she opened the door, stepping aside to let him and her cat inside before locking it behind her. 

 

Hermione hung her keys on the hook behind the door, setting her bag against the wall while she pulled the hair tie from her hair. “Dad?” she called out. 

 

“In the kitchen.” Her father called out, a string of curses following it with the sound of several pots falling. 

 

Ron didn’t say a thing when she dropped his hand before stepping into the neat kitchen, him nearly smacking his forehead on the door frame that was far too low. 

 

“Dad,” she began, noting how Ron ran his fingers across the countertop in curiosity. “This is Ron.” 

 

Mr. Granger had been facing away from them, leaning over the stove top. His shock was evident as he turned far too quickly, knocking the plate beside him into the floor, along with the silverware. “Excuse me.” he said quickly, stepping over the mess. “Frank Granger.” He extended his hand, giving Ron’s a firm shake. 

 

Hermione winced when she saw her father squeeze too tightly, and Ron shot a nervous look at her. “He’s a friend from school.” she told her father. “We’re going to watch a movie before his rugby game tonight.” 

 

“Rugby?” Mr. Granger asked. It was something her father could discuss with him, instead of tossing thinly veiled threats his way. “You must know Draco Malfoy then. Why isn’t he here to watch a movie as well?” 

 

“ _ Dad. _ ” she hissed. 

 

* * *

  
  


Theodore Nott was not the class clown so many of his classmates believed him to be. He had a sense of humor, cracked jokes with Potter when it was the best time, which was basically all of the time since Hermione Granger had lied in the middle of a sidewalk in the middle of London, crying out for the person she depended on most. 

 

Observing people had become less of a hobby and more of a necessity through the years. With someone as stoic as Malfoy as his best mate, he supposed he had to be. Draco Malfoy hid his feelings under layers upon layers. Not to mention that scowl that was permanently set on his face. 

 

To say he was surprised to find him Pansy again would be an understatement. To say that he was tired of these two idiots flitting about, completely oblivious to their own feelings would be a lie. He had remained calm since Granger’s assault, telling himself, and Potter respectively that it was only a matter of time. 

 

Cormac McLaggen’s assault on the female portion of their group was the catalyst. 

 

Or so he had thought. 

 

“What the fuck were you doing with Parkinson?” his voice was booming, a far cry from his calm demeanor moments earlier as he’d watched Malfoy stare down the two crossing his driveway. 

 

Lucius appeared at the entrance of the foyer, leaned against the door trim. With wide eyes, he watched the two. His glasses had slipped down his nose, nearly the same pair of thick black frames his son had that were currently lying in an upstairs bathroom. 

 

“I wasn’t aware that I needed to explain my sexual conquests to you.” Draco bit out, throwing his keys across the table in the entryway, them skidding across the mirror top and crashing to the floor. “If I want to snog Parkinson against my car, what business of it is yours?” he snapped, a rare sight, and yelling the end of it, throwing his hand out. 

 

“I made it my business when Hermione walked by and nearly burst into tears!” Theo snarled. “You stupid, stupid prat. This is because you’re bloody jealous of Ronald Weasley and don’t know how to accept your own feelings.” 

 

“Granger can date whoever she likes, just like I can. Why would Pansy make her cry? You’re overestimating her feelings.” 

 

Lucius cleared his throat, clenching his fist as if he were about to throttle his son. “Perhaps it’s because of the fact Miss Parkinson is the one who attempted to keep you from going to the hospital for Hermione?” 

 

“I would have never,” 

 

Lucius raised his voice above his son’s, taking long strides towards Draco. “Perhaps Hermione does feel threatened, ridiculous, hormonal feelings aside. Not because she sees you as she sees this new boy.” The elder Malfoy’s eyes were cold as he took in Draco’s subtle flinch. ‘Maybe it’s because of all the girls you could possibly choose, you pick the one who actively looked to keep you away from her. There is more than one type of jealousy, even if it is not the one you want.” 

 

The silence was deafening. Theo took a step away from the two blonds that appeared as if they were about to go to war. There was nothing quite as terrifying as Mr. Malfoy, especially as he shouted about his goddaughter, who was four houses down. 

 

It crossed Theo’s mind that Lucius Malfoy would absolutely storm down there and sort this out himself. As if they were children. With Hermione in one chair and Draco in another until they made up. It didn’t sound like an awful idea at the moment. 

 

And then Lucius smiled cheerfully. Theo’s stomach dropped, as he watched Draco mumble beneath his breath. “I think we need to discuss this over dinner. Tea?” 

 

Theo nodded, while his friends glared at him. Draco mouthed, “This is your fault.” 

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things, if you’re free to read them. If not, okay! So the plot starts moving, which I think we’re all ready for. Someone reviewed and mentioned this was a “slow burn”. That’s a huge compliment to me because I’m not sure how to write a slow burn without there being a load of pining. So, thank you! Long ways to go for Hermione, and I’m looking for this to be as realistic as possible.
> 
>  
> 
> It’s a delicate subject, and I plan to treat it as such.
> 
>  
> 
> I had a supremely awful morning and I’m going to take a few days for my own mental health, which I’ll probably still spend writing, just not uploading. But Sunday starts my seven day vacation from work, and I suspect you’ll see me a lot then. Till next time! x


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though there’s a warning in the first chapter, I want to repeat trigger warnings for attempted rape and Hermione talking about it. While it’s not a huge part of this chapter, I wanted to repeat it just in case. Last time I’ll take up an author’s note to point it out again, I just worried someone would be blindsided, but the warning goes for the entire story. 
> 
> WE ARE FINALLY IN DOUBLE DIGITS OF CHAPTERS!

“You’re late.” she muttered, slamming the window shut against the white frame after he’d crawled through.

 

Draco shrugged out of his jacket, shaking his wet hair. He’d barely dried off after his shower twenty minutes earlier. “You shouldn’t have waited up.” he faltered, regretting the words the moment he said them. “Granger, I’m sorry, I just had something to do.” 

 

She spun on him, glaring and poking him in the chest, her finger pressed against his sternum. He moved her hand away as he laid the garment on her dresser. 

 

“Someone, you mean.” she replied angrily. “It’s too bloody hot in here. Aren’t you burning up?” he shook his head, his eyes widening as she grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt and ripping it over her head. “I  _ know  _ it’s not my business who you shag in your free time,” Hermione continued, storming to her closet, sliding it open and stretching to grab a tank top from a hanger.  

 

“Are you jealous of Pansy?” he laughed. She glared at him, completely missing how he wasn’t looking her in the eye, as she moved to slip the tank top over her head. 

 

But then she looked away, as if it hurt to look at him, so she didn’t notice how his eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts, or how he committed the modest black, lacy bra she wore to memory. An out of character moment for him. It was a cycle, them being so comfortable with one another, a cycle that was surely going to be the death of him. 

 

“Am I jealous?” she echoed. “Are you jealous of Ron? You say you’re not, so I suppose that answer will suffice.” 

 

“How are you applying the cream to your back, Granger?” she glared at him, pulling the tanktop down to the hem of her pajamas. “I know you don’t let Frank do it for you.” 

 

“You’re changing the subject.” Hermione told him, sitting next to him in the floor and crossing her legs. “I’ve been putting it on a towel, and trying to put it on there that way.” She folded her arms over her chest. “It’s not working too well if you’re curious. It’ll scar.” His legs stretched across the carpet. 

 

Draco’s head rolled to the side, dark gray eyes narrowing on her. “Idiot.” he snapped. “Go get it.” 

 

“Draco.” he only shook his head. “I’m sure putting scar cream on my wounds is the last thing you want to do. It’s fine. It will just scar. I won’t be the one who sees it anyways. Just..others.” Her bottom lip trembled while he rose to his feet. “It’s not,” 

 

“We don’t have to admit it happened, just like how I sleep here every night. It’s a secret between us.” While there was no hope in concealing the bitterness in his tone, she wouldn’t look any deeper into it. She might not see that for the moment. “Caring about a scar doesn’t make you superficial.” 

 

“I don’t care about a bloody scar.” she insisted. “In the future, it might freak someone else out.” 

 

“Do you really need me to tell you that if a scar makes a man like you less,”

 

“Save the relationship advice. You’re fucking Pansy Parkinson, so you’re not someone I need advice from.”

 

“Okay, I know you’re pissed with me for whatever reason, but that’s not an excuse to refuse my help.” 

 

“She turned off your phone the night I was nearly raped.” Hermione said quietly. “I know it’s not your fault, and I know you came to the hospital even when she wanted you to stay. Just like I know how irrational it is to be jealous of seeing you around her. If it wasn’t her, I wouldn’t care. So if you want to be with her, I’m hardly going to demand you choose me or the other.” 

 

“Is there a point to this?” 

 

“If she is going to be a permanent fixture if your life, I’ll leave you alone. Her and I, we’re like oil and water. I’d hate to stand in the way of anything you want.” 

 

He sighed, offering his hand and pulling her to her feet. “Hey,” he murmured, tilting her chin up as she tried to stare at the floor. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes were watering. “I needed a distraction, and she was willing. I didn’t think that it would upset you.” 

 

“A distraction?” 

 

A distraction that had utterly failed in his bedroom. The meaningless sex he’d been able to find satisfaction in before the world was tilted was just that, meaningless. There would be hell to pay come Monday, when the little witch cornered him, and demanded answers. Of why he’d shoved her off of him when she was in her knickers and willing. Of why exactly he hadn’t gotten an erection at all, and how could he put that explanation nicely? 

 

“I can’t tell you.” he forced the words out. Expecting her crestfallen expression didn’t make it any easier as he watched her eyes water. After a lifetime spent telling her every secret he had, a tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, I haven’t figured it out yet.” 

 

“It’s not like you to be so vague.” Hermione caught his wrist as he reached to wipe the salty tears from her cheeks. “You could tell me, but you won’t.” 

 

“Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on myself.” She’d always seemed so small to him, being so much shorter. He’d never thought of her as fragile until recently, and he’d always felt the need to protect her, but looking down on her now made it clear those feelings had changed. 

 

The pajama bottoms she wore - the  _ Star Wars  _ ones that he always teased her over - were too long for her. She nearly always tripped on the hems as she walked. But it was so strictly Hermione, and her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looked the same as she always had. 

 

He felt uneasy as it felt like he’d never seen her before at the same time. That he hadn’t actually noticed the little white scar above her right eyebrow, where Theo had shoved her off those damn swings. There were golden flecks in her eyes, a gorgeous contrast against the brown, and he wondered how that had gone unnoticed by him. It wasn’t as if he’d never stood so closely to her. 

 

Granger wasn’t fragile, she’d smack him if she knew he’d even thought it, but looking at her with her arms wrapped around her waist and her eyes welling with tears, it’s exactly what he thought. It would be so easy to pull her into him, to hold her until the sun rose because she would let him. The last nights he’d waited for her to fall asleep first. Her soft breathing put him at ease, helped him sleep when he seemed to burn everywhere her skin touched his. 

 

It would be easy. The nights could be easy, she could be his in some way then, but it would make the days harder. He would have to see Ron wrap an arm around her shoulder and pretend he didn’t know how soft she felt against him. He’d have to write off his jealousy, something he needed to do regardless if he wanted to keep her as his closest friend. 

 

“Draco, you can tell me anything. Is something wrong?” 

 

He shook his head slowly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “No, I think something is right, and it’s already too late.” 

 

She looked at him quizzically. “Like that’s any less vague?” 

 

“I told you I wouldn’t tell you. Come on,” he led her by her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and kept facing away from her. “Will this make you uncomfortable?” 

 

The bathroom was white, pristine and spotless. It smelled like a hospital room, like she’d santitized it, and that was something he certainly hadn’t taken notice of. He wasn’t without a brain. He understood how post traumatic stress could display. Hermione had told him how she scrubbed her skin until it hurt, had told him, in great difficulty, that she woke in the mornings and could still feel his hands on her. 

 

He hadn’t thought about if everything else had to be scrubbed, wiped down. Draco didn’t say anything about it, watching her move as if she’d never been attacked. It felt more like a privilege to be trusted by her, to be trusted to have her back to him. 

 

Hermione shook her head and opened the cabinet to pull the tube from the shelf. “Of course not. You’ve already seen me at my worst, and you stayed. I don’t have to worry about losing you.” 

 

It was simple statement, something that had lurked behind her words as she spoke of never losing him over a boyfriend, but it felt like a dull knife twisting in his chest. He couldn’t leave her, he couldn’t have her, although he was still trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to kiss her. 

 

That he didn’t want to lift her onto the counter by her hips, or brush his lips against her when she managed to roll on top of him in the middle of the nights. Nothing worked, not even fucking an ex girlfriend, who would be a problem. 

 

Nothing forced it away. Hermione Granger assaulted nearly all of his senses, how Pansy’s perfume smelled of citrus instead of Hermione’s strawberry body wash. She never used perfume. Or how Pansy’s skin hadn’t felt as smooth as it had the last time he’d been with her. 

 

“You’ll never have to worry about losing me.” he scoffed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried.” Draco chuckled, watching her shoulders drop as she waved him off. He couldn’t help but wonder if his own words were a lie. How could he continue being as close as he was, and watching her with someone else?

 

“You just like to think you’re the center of attention is all,” she replied, pulling her tanktop up to expose her back. She was able to still keep it over her breasts as she handed him the tube. “Hurry, I’m exhausted.” 

 

“We can sleep in on Saturday’s you know. We don’t have to get up and study the lessons we haven’t had yet.” She glared at him in the mirror in front of them. He hardly thought about the fact she might have wanted him to apply the cream under her bra, instead of unsnapping the clasp, but given the way she jerked. He undid the clasp in one movement, with his left hand. “Did you say something?” 

 

“I said I guess Pansy wasn’t lying about that. She boasted of your skills. Apparently taking her bra off quickly impressed her.” 

 

He laughed at the blush on her cheeks as his fingers moved along her spine. “I can do it with my teeth too.” 

 

She flushed, looking at him in the mirror for a moment before looking away. “That’s,” she paused. “That’s actually sort of impressive. Does it not hurt your teeth?” 

 

He placed the tube back on the counter, wiping his hand off on a towel before clasping her bra once more. “In the moment I’m not worried about my teeth, Granger.” 

 

“That didn’t answer my question.” 

 

He tugged her tank top down, before the crass words of, ‘I could show you,’ left his mouth. “No, it doesn’t hurt. And really, you shouldn’t wear your bra over the cream anyways. It will cause it to smear.” 

 

“It’s okay, I’d rather not.”

 

“I know, but for when I stop sleeping over, that’s what you should do. I can still rub it on your back, but that’s when you need to start sleeping in a loose shirt.” 

 

“What do you mean when you stop sleeping over?” she asked him, closing the bathroom door quietly as he made his way to his side of her bed. “Forgive me, I was under the impression you’d continue sleeping here.” Hermione stared at the floor, wiggling her toes. 

 

“I don’t think Ron would appreciate it if he found out is all, and he’d accuse you of lying.” 

 

“Logical, but you just told me how it was a secret between us. Do you not want to sleep here anymore? Does it make you uncomfortable?” she paused, her eyes lighting up and then dimming once more. “It makes her uncomfortable, for you to be here. You probably left her because I needed you here.” 

 

“Pansy has nothing to do with this,” he told her, grabbing her hand from where he sat at the foot of his side. “Just take her out of your mind. I promise she doesn’t mean anything. I can keep it a secret, but wouldn’t you feel guilty?” 

 

He hoped she said yes. It would be an easy out, and it would not taint the friendship they had. Back home, in his own bed he wouldn’t sleep well, he already knew. It hadn’t taken long to crave her presence near him. 

 

“I don’t feel guilty.” she sat beside him, dropping his hand. “I do feel guilty.” she corrected. “Harry brought it up today, and told me sleeping medication might be better for me, but I’ll tell you the truth” Hermione took a deep breath that made him anxious, as if she were trying to work herself up to something. “I don’t want to take pills to sleep when you’re so close. I would rather have you.” 

 

Hermione didn’t mention how her boyfriend - or would be soon - would never understand. Or how her words were alarming when she spoke them. Nor did he. 

 

“If you’re unable to tell Weasley that, doesn’t that prove this would hurt him? Wouldn’t that hurt you in return?” he said lowly, brushing caramel coloured hair out of her eyes. “If you want me here, I’m here.” 

 

It was a lie, he felt it in his gut. The closer she became with Ron Weasley, the harder it would be to him. They would drift apart, and she would feel horrible when she finally noticed. Draco would have hurt her, and it would have only push her to Weasley. The last thing he wanted, but he was too much of a coward to confront what he had realized. 

 

“I can’t sleep without you.” she looked up to him, misty eyed as she did so. “So, for as long as you’re willing to be here, I would prefer that. The second you’re not, I’ll ask Dad to make another appointment with my doctor.” 

 

“We can deal with as we go, it will be fine.” Draco told her, watching her lace her fingers in her lap, fidgeting uneasily. “What is it?” 

 

“Do you think about your mum?” Her voice was a whisper, one wind could have carried away had they been outside. “Do you ever think of how you never knew Narcissa, but I knew my mum and I was horrible to her?” 

 

“No, I don’t compare us.” he replied, seeing a tear fall onto her wrist. “My mother died in childbirth. If anything, I’ve always felt it was my fault. If I hadn’t been born, she would have lived, and perhaps she would have survived a different pregnancy.” 

 

“I’m not going to tell you it’s not your fault, I know you hate that.” He smirked at that. “But I will remind you that she loved you so much, that she chose to carry you to full term, and that means something.” 

 

“It does.” he agreed. “I wish I could have grown up with her, to have her attend my matches, or to have met you, but I stopped dwelling on it a long time ago. I’ve had seventeen years to let go. It’s only been a few months for you, Granger.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “It’s been years since I started treating her horribly, as if she was the devil.” 

 

“It was a nasty divorce, you can’t blame yourself for reacting. She had an affair. You were angry for your father. It hurt you to see him hurting.” 

 

“I never understood why she didn’t tell him she wanted to see someone else. Why rip him apart by cheating on him, instead of divorcing?” 

 

“People do stupid things. Maybe she thought divorcing him would hurt him more, maybe she couldn’t decide. Your mum is the only one who could have told you the reasoning.” 

 

She crossed her legs beneath her, leaning forward with her elbows on her legs. “And I told her I hated her, and that I wished she were dead. Well, that came true, didn’t it?” she spat bitterly. “She was murdered in a car park, and I didn’t tell her I loved her, despite everything.” 

 

“You didn’t have to tell her. She knew.” 

 

Her body jerked as soft sobs came from her chest. “That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have wanted to hear it from me. She died scared, holding onto to this stupid necklace that I bought her for mother’s day.” Her hand rose to the small cross, her index finger and thumb squeezing it. “The man she had an affair with, why would he sleep with a woman who was married? That couldn’t have been what he wanted.” 

 

“I imagine he loved her,” Hermione’s eyes landed on him, narrowing as he spoke. “As much as you don’t want to hear that, it’s likely true. And if it were me in that position, I can imagine wanting the woman I loved even if it was only in secret.”

 

She wouldn’t know it was an admission, as close to a confession as he could possibly come to. Or that it was the moment he knew it he did what a nameless man did with her mother, it would destroy everything. 

 

But he was a selfish person when it came down to her, and he allowed himself to stare at her, while moonlight was trickling in through the window. She was stunning beneath it, even as she broke down and told him all the things she couldn’t tell anyone else. 

 

He was lying when he told himself it was enough. 

 

* * *

  
  


“I’m here to see Lucius Malfoy,” Hermione told the blonde haired woman who sat behind a mahogany desk in front of his office. She tapped her pen against the wood, glancing over Hermione, who had her hands in front of her. 

 

In a ceramic coffee cup that sat on her desk, it said  _ blood type: coffee _ in gold calligraphy, there were at least a dozen pens. Some of them had bite marks on the caps. “Do you have an appointment, Miss,” she trailed off, waiting for Hermione to reply while she rifled through her calendar for the barrister. 

 

“Granger.” Hermione supplied. “I’m his goddaughter, but if he’s busy today, could you deliver a message for me?” 

 

The woman froze, in the middle of flipping to the next page. “No, he’s always given me instructions to send you right in. I barely recognized you. Off you go,” she told her politely, raising from her seat and brushing down her plum coloured pencil skirt. She opened the door for Hermione. “Miss Granger is here to see you, Mr. Malfoy.” 

 

Hermione imagined this was exactly what Draco would look like when he reached his father’s age, and she wanted to roll her eyes at his ridiculously good genes. Lucius mouthed for her to wait as he returned to his phone call. 

 

His hair was neatly combed and set, though his office gave the appearance of how he wasn’t organized at all. She stifled a laugh as he glared at her while she began to organize his office. Case files were strewn about in front of him, as if he’d been trying to look over four at once. Ignoring the photos of the crimes inside, she categorized them by the case number in the right hand corner, placing them in their folders neatly. 

 

His office had always felt like a sanctuary to her, an odd thought as she knew the types of stories to travel through here. Hermione noted the wig and the black robe on the rack by the door, placed in front of the glass paneling. It had been a strategic placement, Lucius loathed the garb he had to wear in court. He said the robe was too itchy, and he should really buy nicer robes, but he never had. 

 

On the wall to the right of his desk, it was a bookcase that had been built into the wall, filled with texts on law and procedure. Though there were some of his most cherished books as well. It had been on the advice of Jean Granger. 

 

Hermione’s chest hurt at the memory of her voice. 

 

Her mother, as smart as she was, realized there were parts of them they would never take home to their families, but that didn’t mean they were meant to suffer at work. Hermione pulled a heavy book from the highest shelf, stretching on her tiptoes. It was a collection of Shakespeare, a love of her mother’s not his. 

 

She smiled. Hermione slid the book back into its place, deciding not to read the note her mother had scrawled inside. On the middle shelf, towards the door, there was a selection of Hermione’s favorite books, novels from young adult to romance, to several titles that Lucius Malfoy would have never allowed in this place. 

 

However, she was his goddaughter, and she’d been coming here for years when it came to advice that she chose not to ask of her own parents. She’d spent several quiet Sundays in this office, lounging on the couch after the funeral. It was been a perfect spot, with someone who didn’t try to force her to talk about it, someone who was suffering in their own silence as well. 

 

She was halfway through the collection she knew by heart when his phone call ended. “If you’re going to organize my office, you could at least take an internship for it.” he told her, motioning for her to take a seat across from him. 

 

“I bet I could be a fantastic secretary.” she laughed. 

 

“I’m sure, but that would be a waste of your potential.” Lucius moved the stack of manilla folders to the corner of his desk cursing when they slipped right into the floor. “Anyway,” he spoke loudly over her laughter. “Why are you here on a Saturday?” 

 

“Why are you? You’re supposed to be home today.” she countered. “I went by there first, but you obviously had snuck off to work.” 

 

“Look at you, answering a question with a question.” he laughed, leaning back in the leather chair. 

 

“I’m sick of dreaming about Cormac McLaggen.” she told him, her voice quiet, but strong. “I’m sick of almost flinching when my friends touch me over the smallest things. I pass Harry a pencil and his fingers brush mine, and I suddenly can’t breathe. Or when Ron,” her face softened. “Decides to hug me, I want to fight him off because now that someone has assaulted me, I’ve forgotten what it means for someone to want to care about me.” 

 

Hermione leaned forward, taking a fountain pen in her hand and twirling it between her fingers. Though she wanted to snap it in half. “I’m sick of seeing McLaggen pawing other girls in the hallway as if he never tried to choke me and rape me, and tell me I’d like it if I let him.” 

 

“What are you telling me, Hermione?” he asked her carefully. Not one tear had rolled down her cheeks, but he wanted to tread lightly. 

 

“I am telling you he is a horrible person, a monster that made me afraid of the dark and I want you to tell me exactly how I make sure he pays for that. He does not get to walk away.” she hissed. “He would do it to another woman, and I want to be the last.” 

 

“That,” he clicked his tongue, reaching into a drawer in his desk. “I can do. We will have to file a police report, you understand?” she nodded. “I’ll get started, and I will tell you when you need to come in. Hermione, you will have to make a statement. You’ll have to describe all the things you told Draco that night, in front of a police officer.” 

 

“Can Draco be there for emotional support? Is that allowed?” 

 

“I’ll make sure of it.” Lucius nodded. 

 

“I’ll tell him then, when I see him next.” Hermione dropped the fountain pen back into the cup on his desk. “Could you drive me home? The bus ride here was horrible.” 

 

“Too many people?” she nodded. “Yes, I can take you home.” Lucius stood, piling the cases that had fallen into the floor and sliding them into his briefcase. 

 

“Those are all mixed up.” she pointed out. 

 

He snorted. “You’re far too much like your mother.”    
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just tell you how much I love Lucius in this story? Cause I really do love him. Also I love writing angsty Draco, and I can’t wait to move forward several chapters and for Hermione to start to realize. GAH. 
> 
> I’m on time off from work until Saturday, so hopefully I’ll be able to work in some more updates! I have a plot bunny for student/teacher tomione, so, see you on the next update!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of it being one full month since I began posting Red String of Fate, and the fact that I crawled out from under my Criminal Minds binge, here is a new chapter. And it's a long one too!

Her first date with Ron Weasley came on a Saturday, two weeks after they had watched movies at her house. She was indecisive on whether she felt comfortable being alone with him. It was Ron, a boy who didn’t fully understand her reservations, but he made the effort. 

 

He had told her, after school where she sat on the fountain with her legs crossed, that they could go somewhere public. Skip the traditional film and movie date, he said, and hit the nail on the head when he assumed she wouldn’t have felt comfortable in a dark theatre. She smiled and nodded, not reacting when he took her hand in his own. 

 

She had read her book while his thumb brushed across her knuckles, bringing a blush to her cheeks. She’d let her hair down to hide it, smiling when he laughed. He’d brushed it over her shoulder, telling her he liked to see her face. 

 

Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of the butterflies, they felt more like hornets, that were trapped in her stomach. He was incredibly sweet, loyal, she’d learned when Cormac McLaggen egged her on once more in the hallway. She’d whispered in Ron’s ear to not worry himself with McLaggen, that he would get what he deserved. 

 

He might receive more than he deserved if Lucius Malfoy had anything to do with it. The man kept his emotions well in check, but Draco hadn’t been the only one yelling in the hospital corridor that night. 

 

Ron simply shushed her with his index finger feather light against the bow of her lips whenever she asked where they were going. “It’s a surprise.” he would tell her. 

 

And she always grumbled, “I hate surprises, Ron. They make me anxious.” Still, she couldn’t help smiling when he looked at her. Cerulean blue eyes that were too blue, too pretty, and she was effectively silenced. 

 

Hermione had laid out five different outfits across her bed, the shoes sat neatly on the floor as she paced in front of them. “Ginny, I don’t think I need to worry this much about what I’m wearing.” 

 

The redhead was lounged on her bed, flipping through a magazine that Hermione would never have been caught dead reading. One of the headlines read,  _ Ten Tips to the Perfect Blowjob _ , and she wanted to die. If her father walked in, it wouldn’t matter if Ginny tossed the bloody issue, he would be mortified. 

 

“I agree that Ron probably won’t notice the difference between any of these, but it’s for you. You need to feel confident in your own skin.” she replied, peeking over the top of the paper. 

 

“That sounds like another headline in that trash.” Ginny only rolled her eyes. “I have no idea where we’re going. If I’m going to be walking around all day, I won’t wear these.” Hermione scooped the pair of wedges off the floor, her fingers slipped under the straps. “And I feel perfectly comfortable in this.” She waved towards herself and Ginny slammed the magazine on the nightstand. 

 

“Oh, you can’t wear that.” Luna chimed from her spot in Hermione’s computer chair. However, she was also sat upside down in it, and was spinning herself by pressing her hands against the carpet. She’d already knocked a bottle of perfume from the desk, and Hermione was just waiting for one blonde curl to get caught in the wheel. 

 

“Why not?” she replied, shoving her hands into the pocket. 

 

“Well,” Ginny drawled sarcastically, motioning for Hermione to turn around. “While the hoodie is slim and fits your figure nicely, it also says Malfoy across the back. What kind of message will that send?” 

 

Hermione flushed. 

 

“Ron is jealous of Draco.” Luna said cheerfully. “Who can blame him? With his pretty blond hair, gray eyes, and have you seen him without a shirt?” 

 

Ginny laughed loudly while Hermione groaned. “Draco is my best friend, and his hoodies are comfortable.” 

 

“Yeah, I bet the smell good too.” Ginny teased her, watching Hermione stumble over a response. “I’m giving you a hard time. Though if I had the chance to jump into bed with Draco Malfoy, I would.” 

 

“You are a horrible, horrible person.” Hermione tossed a hanger at her. “I see how this would be a problem. I guess I’m just used to not having to worry about it.” 

 

“It’s okay.” Ginny crawled to her knees, patting Hermione on the head. “Ron is my brother, so I’m a bit biased. I think he’s an idiot, and a prick sometimes. I know the jealousy has put you on edge of course. Draco had always been here for you, I told Ron that won’t change just because he entered the picture.” 

 

“I’m,” Hermione paused. “That might not be true. He’s been rather distant.” It had started small, with him picking up studying in the library more when they were at lunch. It had turned into him vanishing completely when she offered to study with him. 

 

There was a missing piece, she was sure of that. 

 

“I thought it was because he didn’t want to be around Ron, but he’s avoiding me altogether, even when I’m alone.” Ginny pursed her lips, appearing as if she hadn’t noticed at all when she had. 

 

Yet Draco was still crawling through her window every night, and she said nothing. She didn’t ask why he was drifting away from her, afraid she wouldn’t be able to stomach the answer. It wasn’t because of Parkinson, who had confronted her days earlier about Draco dropping her once more. Hermione hadn’t been willing to admit that she was in the same situation. 

 

He slept there, told her goodnight and good morning, and they parted ways at the entrance of Hogwarts. It left her feeling empty. She wasn’t the type to search for another friend to ease her loneliness, she would be fine on her own. Just Ron was already there, with wide blue eyes when he asked her what was wrong and she shrugged him off. She told him they should talk about other things. 

 

“Have you thought that he could be jealous of Ron being with you?” Ginny asked gently. “It’s okay if there’s something there, you know, as long as you try to spare my brother.” 

 

“I have thought about it.” Hermione admitted, wincing as Luna kicked a bottle of lotion into the floor. “I just don’t think it’s possible. Not because we’ve always been friends. I’m not so blind that I don’t realize feelings can change. I’m just not his type. I’m annoying and insufferable, and we fight all the time. That’s not it.” 

 

“Ginny’s magazine says,” Hermione’s bedroom door opened, but Luna continued. “That fighting leads to makeup sex, and also that angry sex can be the best.” she paused. “Hi, Mr. Granger, how are you?” 

 

He had walked in at the worst possible moment and Hermione met Ginny’s astonished expression. Frank Granger looked as if he didn’t know if he should be horrified, or if he should laugh. “I’m well, and you, Luna?” 

 

She chatted animatedly with her father about the weather as if she hadn’t been suggesting that fighting with Draco could lead to angry sex. “Did you see his face?” Ginny asked, barely containing her laughter. 

 

“Unfortunately.” Hermione grumbled, biting her nails until her father shut the door, muttering under his breath. “Luna, that was the worst possible timing.” 

 

She shrugged. “It’s still true. Do you feel anything beyond friendship for him? Is that why you’re so upset he’s ignoring you? If he is jealous, he won’t be able to stand looking at you when you’re with Ron. It would hurt him.” 

 

“No, I’ve never wanted,” she paused. “All this conversation has done is confuse me even more. I really like Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny gagged. “And I hope you’re wrong, because if you’re right, Draco is lying to me. And that’s so much worse.” 

 

“Would it change anything?” Ginny asked her. “If you called him right now and Luna was right, would you go to him, or go on your date with Ron? Ignoring the fact that he’s my brother, of course.” 

 

She answered immediately. “I’d go with Ron.”

 

“Then that’s what really matters here.” Ginny told her. 

 

“But what if that changes?” Luna calls out, and Ginny doesn’t see how Hermione’s face drains of color.

 

“Hermione has to do what Hermione wants.” Ginny says easily. “Which if this did happen, I wouldn’t be angry.” she tells the girl standing beside the bed. Hermione saw the way she hesitated, wanting to be the best friend she could be, but she was clearly worried. “You have to be with who makes you happy, even if it’s not the person who makes you happy right now.” 

 

Hermione nods, pulling the last outfit from the bed. “I don’t think I could hurt him, Gin.” 

 

“And,” Ginny exclaims brightly, ignoring the elephant in the room that might crush them. “That did come from my magazine, so there.” 

 

* * *

  
  


Ron was the first person she told she’d decided to press charges. Lucius had called her father, she suspected. Just like she suspected that it would be a turning point for her father to watch her more closely, something she had to understand and something she wanted to avoid for as long as she could. 

 

“Do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you?” 

 

Hermione paused, setting her drink down on the table. She looked around the cafe, eyeing Oliver Wood behind the counter in an apron, but he’d never be able to hear her from here. Ron looked over her, eyes wide and worried. “I decided to press charges against Cormac McLaggen for attempting to rape me and then beating the hell out of me.” Hermione was blunt, hopeful hearing the truth would make it any easier to swallow. 

 

It didn’t work. 

 

“That’s great!” he exclaimed, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” 

 

She nodded, snatching the cookie from his side of the table, nearly knocking over her glass in the process. “It should be a good thing, but it makes me feel uneasy. As if he could do something to get back at me.” 

 

“Ah,” he brushed his thumb over her knuckles, a trait he had developed once he saw it calm her down once. “I understand that. The fear must be,” 

 

“Crippling.” she told him, lifting her glass to her lips. “It’s more than the fear he appears out of nowhere and tries to choke me again, it’s that there is no way around reliving it.” 

 

“Your nightmares?” he asked her. 

 

A smile curved her lips. She hadn’t told him, but he’d noted the bags under her eyes since the week she’d begun tutoring him. He was sweet, and was far more observant than anyone gave him credit for. “No.” Hermione told him finally. “I have to sit down and describe what happened in detail, to a police officer. Lucius will be there, but I’ve only told one person. It was the night that I spent in the hospital. I was inconsolable, I’m surprised I let him anywhere near me, much less break down.” 

 

“Draco is a good friend to you.” It might have been the first time there hadn’t been underlying animosity in his tone, and she peeked up at him. 

 

She noted the genuine concern, the way he handed her the other cookie that he’d actually nabbed for himself. “Does he make you uncomfortable?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “It seems you’ve let it go partly, the worry that he was something more to me.” 

 

“In the interest of not keeping secrets from you, I don’t like him very much. He’s your friend, and I wouldn’t ask you to choose as I would lose. What does he think of pressing charges?” 

 

“Oh,” she sucked in a sharp breath. “I haven’t told him, so I wouldn’t know.” 

 

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Why haven’t you told him?”

 

“He’s been avoiding me like a disease so I haven’t had the chance to share the news is all. There was some sort of problem a few weeks ago, the day you got the perfect score on the quiz, he was extremely vague. He wouldn’t tell me a thing. I assume it must be related. I wanted him to be there when I had to say it outloud.” 

 

Ron nodded. “Would you like me to tell him?” 

 

She jerked, knocking the cup over in the same moment Ron caught it. “No, I’ll think of something. I hope it doesn’t bother you.” 

 

He shook his head. “You’d think so, but whatever makes you feel better, that’s what I want. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. If it were Ginny,” 

 

She squeezed his hand. “Somehow we always end up on the conversations neither one of us really want to have.” she laughed. 

 

Hermione let go of his hand, leaning back against the booth, the black upholstery smooth against her back. She glanced around the quiet restaurant as he ate, picking her freshly painted nails below the table. The pretty mauve Luna had painted a few hours earlier was already chipping away. 

 

Oliver was leaning over the front counter, laughing with a few classmates that she recognized. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas sat in the barstools, Dean spinning himself repeatedly. There was a red rag -it matched the interior of the establishment- under his hand. No surprise that he wasn’t working at all. 

 

When Ron had opened the door for her, she’d wanted to drag him back down the street and tell him no, he did not need to take her to a ridiculously expensive restaurant just to prove he could. Ginny was forthcoming of her brother’s insecurities, and had told her quietly with Luna in the room that he worried about taking her to a nice place, about not spending enough money on her. The red head had also told her it would be useless to tell Ron it wasn’t necessary. 

 

The excitement on her face had been real as a hostess asked them if they would prefer a booth or a table. Ron had answered. She’d been preoccupied with staring at the chandeliers that seemed to sparkle as the fake crystals in front of them swayed. 

 

Hermione noted the artwork along the walls, stunning oil paintings of the scenery with the changing seasons. “It’s beautiful here.” she smiled as he stopped eating suddenly, a noodle hanging precariously from him lips. Hermione laughed lightly as he covered his mouth. “Thank you.” 

 

“You liked it?” he asked, and it was the first time he’d been nervous, save for when her father had tried to shake his hand once more. 

 

“Very much so. I like the paintings.”

 

“Would you prefer to receive a gift or have an experience? Going somewhere, I mean.” 

 

“I suppose it depends, but I like to see new things. Memories are important to me.” 

 

“There’s a book store down the street, but I think that’s a little obvious.” Hermione’s teeth showed as she smiled. “There’s a museum,” 

 

She cut him off. “The museum,” she gushed. “I’ll pay even if you’ll just go with me. I love the garden they have there.”

 

“Slow down.” he chuckled. “That answers that then. We will go after we finish eating, yeah?” she nodded happily, taking another bite of the chicken she’d ordered. “And, no, you aren’t paying.” 

 

“Next time.” she challenged, crossing her legs under the table, accidentally knocking into his. “Let it be my treat sometime. Who conforms to social norms anyway?” 

 

He didn’t agree, but flashed her a small smile that made her think he was eventually going to cave. She folded her hands in her lap while he waved to one of the waitresses, smiling and asking for the check. 

 

Hermione opened her phone beneath the table, opening a notification from Malfoy.  _ Good luck today, hope you have fun.  _

 

It knocked the wind out of her while Ron wasn’t looking. Her fingers shook as she typed out a reply.  _ I’m having a great time, thank you. We’re about to go to the museum, so my phone will be off, but I really need to talk to you soon. It’s important.  _

 

“Ready?” he asked her. 

 

She nodded, grabbing her handbag from the booth and letting the strap fall across her chest. “It’s not very far from here,” He opened the door for her, letting her step out first, her wedges tapping against the pavement. The same shoes she had said she would not be wearing. “We could walk.” 

 

He glanced down at her shoes and then arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?” 

 

“You underestimate me too easily.” she mumbled, flipping open her handbag and pulling a pair of black flat from inside. “Ginny made me wear these, but Luna slipped these,” she waved him in front of his face while he put his hands up in surrender. “In my handbag for me.” 

 

She hung an arm on his shoulder to keep her balance as she switched pairs. The air was brisk in October, cold against the knit stockings that covered her thighs. Ginny had agreed that the dress was the best option, a pretty color that matched her nails, or had. 

 

It did nothing against the cold air when it blew, tangling her hair. Ron shrugged out of his jacket, holding it out to her. “If you want,” he offered, and her heart thudded at the smile it earned her when she slipped her arms through the sleeves. “Looks good on you.” 

 

She glanced down at the too long sleeves, holding her arms straight out so he could see it draping off of her. “Is that just a thing for men? Liking when women wear their clothes?” 

 

He spluttered and Hermione could only grab his hand and walk beside him, pointing out little things that only meant something to her. “Oh, I broke my arm down there once. It was Harry’s fault.” She pointed towards a fire escape in an alley. 

 

“Why the hell would you go down there? It looks like someone has been murdered there.” 

 

She shrugged. “Theo and Harry wanted to climb up to the roof. Draco and I followed along, but I was the only one who wasn’t fit enough to climb up there. Plus I’m shorter than all of them, I was never going to make the jump to the bottom rung.” 

 

“Okay, but how did you break your arm if you couldn’t make it up there?” 

 

“Well, Harry put me on his shoulders, and I had it, until I didn’t. I knew I was going to slip, and if if let go I would have taken Harry with me, so I jumped off the side.” 

 

“You did  _ what _ ?” he choked on the breath he’d been inhaling. “That’s bloody insane!” 

 

“Yeah,” she laughed loudly, her head falling backwards, hair tangled. “No one else got hurt though. I only say it’s Harry’s fault because he felt so guilty. I’m no stranger to breaking bones.” 

 

He looked horrified. “Tell me more then.” 

 

“I’ve broken my arm, this leg,” she patted her right leg. “A bone in my foot. Lucius thought I had fractured my skull from a nasty fall -Draco and I used to climb in a treehouse in his backyard. One day though, I climbed on top of it, and I fell to the ground.” 

 

“Please tell me Malfoy started crying.” A grin split his face and she thought this, this is how I always want to see Ron. 

 

“No, he did not.” she swatted his chest. “We were also fourteen, so I doubt he’d have let anyone see him cry anyway. The tree house is still there by the way. I broke this wrist in an arm wrestling match with Theo.” 

 

“I see, so you’re not prone to danger at all? You just dive into it, and you must be stubborn as hell since you should have just lost in that arm wrestling match.” 

 

She gasped, placing a hand to her chest. “As if.” she scoffed. “Growing up with boys will do that to you. I may not be able to jump fences, or climb trees, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.” 

 

“And failing.” he snorted. “At least Luna is some kind of normal, you’re just a little daredevil apparently.” 

 

“Don’t let her fool you.” Hermione sang as she pointed to the gated entrance of museum up the street. “When Draco let me take his car, I let Luna drive, and she raced Theo.” 

 

“By raced,” 

 

“I mean she is insane and Draco kept screaming we were all going to die.” she quipped. “Also, she won that race and Theo had never mentioned it once more.” 

 

“Ah,” Ron nodded. “I had no idea you were so bold.” 

 

Her cheeks heated up while she nodded. “I guess I haven’t been much of myself then, have I?” Hermione tugged him to a stop, fishing her phone from the pocket of her jacket. Her heart ached when she saw Draco had not texted her back at all, but she shoved it away the best she could. “Take a picture with me?” 

 

He nodded, letting her guide him to where they were standing in front of the drive leading up to the building. She glanced for traffic before turning into the curve of his body and lifting her phone to take a picture. His breath caught, she saw it through the front camera. “Smile.” she told him and took the picture. 

 

They stepped back onto the sidewalk, her looking at the picture they had taken. She saw the allure of her wearing his jacket. It swallowed her, somehow made her look smaller than she really was, and god, that smile on her face. She didn’t think she had seen herself smile like that in at least a month, and then she took a good look at Ron. 

 

He wasn’t looking at the camera at all. He was staring at her, and it struck her rather hard, how far she’d been falling without realizing. “I love it.” she tells him, stretching up to kiss his cheek.

  
  
  


Ron didn’t have an interest in art, she knew. He had brought her here because she would love being surrounded by the paintings, the sculptures. He’d listened to her lame explanation of how it was nice to be around things that were still standing, despite all of the events in the world, and it looked as if they had never been touched by anything horrible. 

 

Then she’d apologized for rambling and contradicted herself by saying how she couldn’t really compare herself to inanimate objects, and-

 

He’d cut her off, telling her his silence wasn’t to laugh at her. He’d just been rather stunned and was struggling to think of a reply of the same wit.

 

His favorite part, he’d told her, was watching the way her face lit up whenever they entered a new exhibit. It was like watching her on Christmas, he imagined, only he didn’t have to wait a year to see it. 

 

Hermione was certain that he hadn’t any of his statements planned, and she was also certain that wasn’t bloody fair. 

 

He was saying things on the spot that made her blood rush, she could feel it between her ears, or the uneven beating of her heart. He had no idea what reaction he was drawing from her, and she attempted to remain calm so she wouldn’t embarrass herself. 

 

Her favorite part had been the ending of the day. Her phone had already rung twice, still no sign of Draco, but it didn’t hurt her as it did earlier. Her dad was expecting her home soon, but she’d begged for a bit more time. They hadn’t gone through the gardens yet. 

 

Hermione had been leading Ron down stone stairs, they led to a gazebo that overlooked a pond. She told him how she’d counted the lily pads as a child, and the last time there had been sixty seven, and he’d asked her if he wanted to have a contest of who would count them all first. She had looked back at him midlaugh, and he’d been ready, his phone out as he snapped a photo of her that was going to be her favorite. 

 

She’d hopped onto the railing, crossing her legs and looking back at him. “Did you have a good time?” she asked quietly. 

 

“Highlight of my year.” he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. Ron was looking at her oddly, she thought, and then she realized when his eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes when she’d caught him. “Uh, I’m sorry.” 

 

She shook her head, crooking her finger and motioning for him to come closer. “Don’t apologize for wanting to kiss me.” she whispered, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I know it would be easier if,” 

 

“If you apologize for something you can’t control, I swear.” Ron moved to step away from her, but she caught him. “Hermione, really, it’s fine. I’m sorry I was even thinking of it.” 

 

“What was it you said? If you apologize for something,” she murmured, looking him over.

 

“These are two entirely different things. I didn’t ask you out today because I wanted to snog you.” he told her, but she didn’t let go. “Hermione,” 

 

“Kiss me.” she told him, her voice steady, though she thought her chest was going to burst. “You’re not him, I’m not afraid of you. And if it makes me remember, then maybe new memories, better memories could help.” 

 

“It sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself into it.” he commented, watching her uneasily as she slid off of the railing.    
  
“It’s just my thought process out loud.” she replied. “Ron.” Hermione tried to stretch up to meet him, but in the end he had to lean down to meet her height. “You have to close your eyes.” He chuckled at her and complied. 

 

Hermione pressed her lips to his, her hands framing either side of his face. His lips were soft, the taste of chocolate was barely there from desert from earlier in the day. He didn’t move at first, until finally relaxing against her and wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. It was a chaste kiss, one he let her control. 

 

She imagined he would be just as afraid if suddenly she began to hyperventilate, and she waited for the moment to come, but it never did. 

 

He pulled away when her tongue slipped against his lips, shaking his head. “No rush here,” he whispered, leaning his forehead to hers. “I could tell you were fine until the end. You tensed up.” 

 

She nodded. “I think you might be perfect.” she said lowly, mostly to herself but he heard regardless. “I appreciate your sensitivity to this and not snogging me senseless when you probably could have.” 

 

“It wouldn’t have been what you wanted, and I want you to feel comfortable around me.” Ron led her up the steps and she felt incredibly light headed. “We have all the time in the world, right?” 

 

“Yeah,” she breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, writing Ron is actually kind of fun. I mean I wish I was writing dramione more, but hey at least it will pay off when we get there, right? So, if you could drop your opinions, especially for Luna. Because I've never written her, so I might not have done her justice. Also, I never thought I would be capable of writing slow burn, and now I have a special kind of respect for authors who do it so well. 
> 
> This shit is hard.


	12. Chapter Twelve

The Potter's’ house was a few streets away from hers, a short walk that she’d made too many times over. She found herself walking there without even realizing where she had been going in the beginning. She could have opted for the playground in between their houses, where she’d spent many of her nights in middle school at Harry’s side while they navigated puberty. 

 

Hermione plucked the headphones from her ears, bundling them around her phone and stashing them in her jacket pocket. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and though she knew it was incredibly rude to plant herself on his doorstep on a school night, she knocked on the door lightly. 

 

A rhythm she’d come up with after a much younger Harry had been scolded for opening the door when he didn’t truly know who was on the other side. A slow smile curled across her face as Lily laughed loudly, coming to answer the door with a smile. “Hermione!” she exclaimed, enveloping her in a tight hug. She smelled of sweet perfume as she squeezed Hermione tightly. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun while she was dressed to exercise. 

 

Hermione’s hands rose to her shoulders to squeeze her. “Could I talk to Harry?” she asked. 

 

Laughter lines showed on her face as she let the door swing open. “In his room with Theodore.” Lily missed the way Hermione grimaced. Of all the times for Harry to not be alone. “How are you?” she grasped Hermione by her arms, beaming at her. “I haven’t seen you since,” 

 

Rushing to cut her off, Hermione smiled and replied. “I’m well. It’s been a rough start to the school year, but I’m doing much better than I thought I would be.” She was squeezed one last time before rushing down the hallway, and softly rapped on the door before turning the door knob. 

 

“Hermione?” Harry leaned back in the bean bag chair to get a look at her, controller in his hand. “Oh, shit, you look awful.” 

 

She choked on what could have been a laugh, maybe a sob. “You sure know how to talk to woman, don’t you?” 

 

Harry looked to Theo, nodding while the boy opposite him saved their game process, and turned off the console. “Did,” Theo hesitated. “Did Ron do something to you because I will drop that motherfucker.” 

 

“No,” she mumbled. “I have a problem.” she managed to get out while Theo walked to her and slung an arm around her shoulder. “I needed to talk to Harry, but you’re here and now I don’t know what to do.” 

 

“I can leave if it,”

 

“No, it doesn’t make me fucking uncomfortable to be around you.” she growled, pinching the skin over his collarbone. “You’re one of my best friends, but if you hear this, I’m asking you to keep a secret from your best friend.” 

 

“What the fuck did Malfoy do?” Harry’s voice was low, uncharacteristically calm. His eyes flashed as he looked to Theo, who’s expression she couldn’t see. 

 

“The only person who did anything to me is Cormac McLaggen.” It was a yell, and she heard the shuffling from the living room stop. She could see it so clearly in her head, Lily Potter pausing mid step during zumba. “And Draco is suddenly ignoring me, and I just need to talk about my feelings.” Hermione spat the words as if they burned. 

 

“Okay.” Harry said lowly, dark green eyes wide as he grabbed a jacket and his phone from the old dresser. “Okay, we can do that, but are you going to yell more?” Theo shook with laughter at her side, barely muffled as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

 

“Undecided.” she replied flatly. “The park?” she asked them, to receive a nod in return. “Wonderful, thank you.” 

 

The park, which should have been nicer than it was given the neighborhood it had been built in, reminded her of something she’d nearly lost. Of the way she’d been carefree enough to walk into his house and of how the same person hadn’t come back out. Hermione sat in the grass, bringing her leg up to rest her chin on her knee as the two sat by her, forming a disproportionate triangle. 

 

And as she began, she wasn’t sure where the conversation would take her, how many times she get off track, or whether she would regret opening up to them at all. 

 

“I was told it would feel real at some point, but no one told me it would be like remembering for the first time every time.” There was silence following her words, nothing but the hissing of the wind. “And my doctor said I might feel urges to hurt myself, to blame myself, but I didn’t believe him. It’s not my fault, I don’t need to be reminded.” 

 

“Hey,” Theo whispered, pulling grass from the ground. “We’re here to listen. I’m shite at advice, so I won’t bother, but I’ll happily listen to you say life wasn’t fair to you.” 

 

She smiled sadly. “Everytime I see him I feel like I let him win. He’s all over any girl he can get to look at him, and they just think it’s attractive how his hand closes around their throat while he pushes her to the locker.” Hermione spoke as if she wasn’t there, while she peered at the inky sky over their heads as if it could make the tears go away. “And she doesn’t know better, how that’s exactly what he did to me when he pressed himself-,” 

 

“He’s a bastard.” she breathed. “And he looks at me as if to say it was nothing, it was easy to wreck me, and I’m tired of losing.” 

 

“Losing?” Harry echoed. “What do you mean?” 

 

“I told Ron, and I somehow can’t just tell Draco.” she rambled, ignoring the confused looks the two were sharing. “I went to Lucius a few weeks ago. I’m pressing charges against McLaggen.” 

 

Harry’s mouth fell open. “This is great news.” he told her with a wide smile and twinkling eyes that made her feel stupid for being upset. “Lucius is going to nail that bastard to the wall.” 

 

“That’s not all.” Theo interrupted. “There’s something else. You told Weasley, but you couldn’t tell Draco?” She swallowed under his gaze, as he slowly pieced it together. “That’s what has you so upset, isn’t it? He’s sleeping with you every night,” she stared at the dirt caked beneath her fingernails. “And you can’t tell him. Why?” 

 

“We’re falling apart.” she cried, tears slipping down her face. “He’s avoiding me, and it’s because I’ve depended on him too much. I cry all the time.” 

 

Theo shook his head. “Rightly so, given how the term started. He’s not ignoring you because you depend on him. He wants to be there for you.” 

 

“Doubtful.” she muttered. “I told him that we needed to talk a few days ago, and-,” 

 

“For someone so bright, you sure are oblivious.” Theo told her, shrugging when she glared at him. “He might not like Weasley, but he loves you. He’d want to be here for you.” Theo leaned forward and tugs on her shoelace, unraveling the string.. 

 

“I’ve only discussed the details of that night once, and it was with him. He made me feel safe; I wanted him to be there when I have to describe it.” 

 

“Past tense, what changed?” Theo grilled her, while Harry sat in silence. 

 

“I changed.” she replied simply. “It was a traumatic event, one that followed another traumatic event and I latched onto the person who knows me best. I can’t depend on someone else forever.” she paused, grabbing a handful of grass and ripping it up. Her nail broke against a stone, chipping and cracking, oozing a drop of blood. Pain no longer bothered her as it had. “I want to depend on myself.” 

 

“You’re stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for, Hermione.” she peeked up to see Theo staring at her. “Tell me who goes through this, and presses charges for selfless reasons.” Her lips part as she moves to argue. “Ah, ah,” he shakes his finger. “Yeah, you don’t want to let him win, but don’t lie to me. You see him pinning Lavender Brown to a locker and you see yourself. You want to do what someone should have done so it had never happened to you.” 

 

And slowly, she brought her knees to her chest. “Tell me who has the stubbornness to start as the victim and end as the hero.” Theo crawled to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her snug against him. She watched Harry smile and nod to her, mouthing for her to just take the plunge and let Theo be there. 

 

So she pushed all the thoughts of how this wasn’t right, of how it was a betrayal to Draco and leans her head on his shoulder. 

 

He smelt of sweat after practice and cologne. “Tell me who is braver than you.” he continued. “And tell me if you need someone there. For whatever your reasons, if you can’t ask Draco, and Weasley isn’t enough, I’ll be there. It’s time to stop shouldering all of the weight. We can carry some of it.” 

 

“This is such wistful bullshit coming from you.” she mumbled. 

 

His chest rumbled with laughter. “Luna bought a self help book. I read it, and a shit ton articles that are alternatively titled:  _ What the Fuck Am I Supposed to Say?”  _

 

“You know he’ll be angry if you don’t tell him.” she murmured, watching as Harry lad back in the grass. 

 

“Malfoy has a shit storm coming his way, and I’m not in the business of making it easy of him.” he replied easily, something lurking beneath the surface. “Besides, you’re my friend too, kind of like the younger sister I never asked for.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” her nose crinkled as she thought about the first thing he’d said.  

 

* * *

  
  


It was something that had always been there, she thought, a trait that belonged solely to her. Or, she wondered while biting down on her bottom lip, it might have belonged to her mother, who had passed it down. The ridiculous mix of tenacity, stubbornness, and the need to confront the horrors in the world she’d always thought of as pleasant. 

 

No matter how much it hurt, and regardless of whether her voice trembled. 

 

Lucius nodded politely to Theodore Nott, who stood at her side utterly passive, and waved the two of them in. Besides an arched brow, he said nothing on the topic of why Theo seemed to have shown up for moral support in the place of his son. 

 

She smiled weakly, sitting on the couch and smoothing down her black dress. It cinched around her waist, flowing freely against her legs. There was a nearly identical one in her closet, but it was backless and she wasn’t quite there yet. Hermione had stood in front of her mirror that morning, while Draco dressed in her bedroom, on the other side of the bathroom door. 

 

Taking the curling wand from beneath the cabinet, it was dusty from sitting there for months, she managed to turn the mess atop her head into soft curls, bouncing when she played with them. It was what she expected what the first lie of many if she truly intended to hide this from the boy in her room when she told him to go ahead, that she was waiting on Ron It was the fastest way to get him out of her house, while he slammed several doors behind him, she realized it was the wrong to say. He’d gotten the wrong idea once more.

 

Malfoy would learn where she had been all that morning, would find it odd that his best mate was missing as well. Especially when he saw Ron Weasley in the corridor because her red haired companion wasn’t known for his tact. 

 

Theo sat beside her, dressed in the only pair of jeans he owned that didn’t have holes in them, paired with a black button up shirt. She’d told him he didn’t need to dress as if he would be the one talking, but his explanation was short. If she was going to be uncomfortable in that itchy dress -”Dont lie to me, Granger. I saw you rush into your house to get it off the day you bought it.”- then he would be uncomfortable along with her. 

 

What are friends for, right? 

 

He’d walked into the building knowing he might have to listen to the grisly details of the horrors that gave her nightmares, and he’d decided the night she showed up at Harry’s looking like  _ that _ , that it didn’t matter what the hell he had to do, he’d do it. Clearly Draco was too busy moping about things he didn’t want to confront, while she was confronting her issues. And apparently her boyfriend was the last person she wanted to sit beside her while she faced her own demons. 

 

“I’ll be okay on my own.” she told him, squeezing his hand. “Wait outside, would you?” she asked him as a police officer enters the room, clipboard in hand. 

 

“Are you sure?” his voice is quiet, his back turned to the officer. 

 

“I’m sure.” she nodded, wishing she wasn’t so much like her mother for what wouldn’t be the last time. “I think I have to be.” Theo left her after ruffling her hair, her squeaking when his fingers get caught in the her curls. “Hairspray.” she growled under her breath, holding her breath at the door closes behind him. 

 

The policeman isn’t much taller than him as she rose to shake his hand. “Sirius Black.” he introduced. “Haven’t seen you since you were half that size.” 

 

She smiled, dropping her hand from his, thinking that of course Lucius pulled in an officer who would have known her as a child. And as the first question passes his lips, a simple, “Can you describe to me what happened on the twelfth of September?”, she swallowed, focusing on the back of Theo’s head through the clear glass between them. 

 

Her stomach feels hard as the onset of a panic attack sets in, and as she wishes Draco could have walked her through it.  _ I can do this, it can’t be worse than the real thing.  _  “I went to Cormac McLaggen’s home,” she began faintly, keeping her eyes on the vase in front of her, on the blue stones at the bottom of it. “I had been seeing him since the first day of school. My friends told me he wasn’t someone I should be around, I didn’t listen.” 

 

Sirius scribbled before looking back up to her. He looked as if he wanted to reach out to her, but he didn’t. 

 

“He got into his father’s liquor cabinet, I think he was drinking scotch. He drank more than I did.” It’s as if there is lead in her stomach as she tried to continue. “We were kissing on his bed, I was under him.” 

 

The dark haired man in front of her nodded, gently prodding. “At what point did you revoke your consent?” 

 

She stuttered violently, clenching her fists as she remembers the exact moment she realized she wasn’t getting away, not easily anyways. “When he pinned my wrists over my head. We’d been kissing, like I said, but we hadn’t gone any farther. He pinned my wrists and tore my shirt down. He was drunk out of his mind.

 

“He was licking, God, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.” she shudders, willing Theo to just turn around and lend her his bravery. But he doesn’t. 

 

“Take your time.” Sirius told her, setting his pen down while she collects herself. 

 

“He was licking my breasts, biting- while I was begging him to stop. I managed to slip one hand free so I could try to hit him, but he pinned me down once more. I kneed him in the groin and he smacked me while calling me a bitch. I hit him with the lamp beside his bed and it didn’t do me any good. I ran for the stairs, and he choked me from behind. He told me how I couldn’t go because I would run to my friend Draco and his father would have him arrested. 

 

“Cormac told me that I would like it. I didn’t think there was another way out, so I threw myself down the stairs. We landed at the bottom, him with a broken wrist while I ran for the door. I screamed and screamed for help. I managed to get myself halfway over the fence before he caught me, and my back was sliced open by the fence. His neighbor Henry helped me off of the fence, and laid me on the sidewalk until paramedics arrived to take me to the hospital.” Hermione finished. 

 

She thought that it was too easy of an explanation, the one she’d rehearsed in her head seeming too personal for a police officer, but she didn’t want to break down. Not here. Not ever, if she had her way.

 

As he set his clipboard down once more she saw that he had managed to capture her statement in his own handwriting, undoubtedly paraphrased, but she was sure she couldn’t write it down without staining the paper with her tears. “Miss Granger, your assault was well documented by hospital staff when you arrived.” Sirius Black told her, watching her eyes widen. “I would be surprised if you remembered after they sedated you, but they took pictures of the wound, and the torn clothing. Is there anything else you need to tell me? Any details that you’ve left out?” 

 

She swallowed and shook her head. “No, I remember everything so clearly I don’t think I will ever forget.” Hermione admitted quietly, and watched Lucius’s face fall. “I don’t want him to be successful the next time, if there is a next time. I can’t make him feel the pain I do, the paranoia, or the little things that rob me of joy. He took something from me, and I want it back.” 

 

Sirius nods to her, exiting the room without another word and she turns to the blond haired man sitting in the chair he’d dragged across the carpet. “I wish I could make it all go away.” his voice breaks and she covered his hand with her own.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was glad someone was devastated alongside her, or if it was her who needed to make it all go away. “I know.” she whispered, gripping his hand as her breathing turned to hyperventilating. “I know.” she repeated. 

 

* * *

  
  


Too shaky to return to school, she asked Theo to take her home, and reassured him that she would be perfectly fine. Maybe not right away, she said, but surely. She couldn’t stomach seeing Draco’s face, not after she’d left the messages he’d sent her with the time stamp she’d read them at to go unanswered. 

 

She hated it, how it had taken a short amount of time for their relationship to shift. What did it matter to her if there were things he didn’t want to tell her? It wasn’t as if it was a requirement to tell her every detail of his life, but she enjoyed that closeness. Hermione had looked over the conversation too many times to see anything that was seemingly staring her in the face. 

 

Simply put, she was too close to the situation. Meaning she pretending to fall asleep until his breathing evened out and he wouldn’t notice her moving over the bed. It was a weak moment, he’d murder her if he ever found out she’d snooped through his phone. Not that he didn’t realize she could; their fingerprints had been put on the other’s phone when they had gotten fancy smartphones. 

 

He just wouldn’t have expected her to scroll through his messages, or to be smart about it -okay, so he would have expected her to be smart about it-, searching keywords in the search bar of his messages. 

 

_ Weasley. Granger. Hermione. Pansy.  _

 

Nothing turned up beyond his messages to her and Theo that Weasley was a prick. Nothing conclusive from her first or last name, that she noticed was a staple in his messages. It caused a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach, but she didn’t notice it. She’d chalked it up anxiety, the evergrowing pit in her stomach that seemed to never end. 

 

Hermione Granger was anything but emotional. And she’d been so absorbed in trying to sort out her emotions that she didn’t feel like herself at all. After the funeral, she hadn’t cried much, only in the secrecy of Lucius’s office where she could turn into the sofa and he’d pretend he couldn’t hear meek sobs. 

 

Her weaknesses showed now, humiliated her even because in a few short moments her life went to hell and back. She flinched often, cried too much, sat underneath the stream of scalding hot water in the shower every time she got a chance. Draco had coaxed her into taking a bath after she refused to touch herself in the three days they had stayed home. 

 

She thought to herself as she nestled into the corner seat of the sectional, tucking her bare legs under her, that this issue with Draco would not have bothered her a month ago. She’d have never read into it so much. Her curls were falling from the pretty number she’d done on herself as she slid her fingers through it. 

 

She yelped when they got caught in what counted as too much hairspray. 

 

“He’s going to kill me.” she muttered, springing to her feet and pacing in front of the coffee table. Not that she could blame him, nor could she drum up a reason for not telling him beyond the fear that talking to him would annoy him. Hermione groaned, picking up her phone once more. The right thing to do was to reply, even if it was to grovel. 

 

_ I know you’re upset-,  _ she deleted that, deciding it was a shitty start.  _ I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but it never felt like the right,-  _ Another groan as she sank to the floor.  _ I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to burden you anymore.  _ Her thumb hovered for a moment, before she clicked send and threw the little device onto the table. 

 

It was the wrong thing to say, and she waited for a reply. He’d be watching his phone, waiting to see if she would reply. 

 

And then it vibrated, surprising her even though it had been coming.  _ Are you fucking kidding me, Granger?  _

 

She snorted, ill timed and didn’t open the message. What could she even say to that anyway? She moved for the remote, turning on the TV and scrolling through the DVR. After settling on a guilty personal pleasure of trashy reality television, she made popcorn. Since Draco Malfoy was bound to storm into her house after school, she figured she might as well enjoy herself before the inevitable screaming match. 

  
  
  


Her front door slammed open, causing her to jump from the soft cushions, spilling the third bag of popcorn she’d made that day. Hermione brushed hair from her face, and tear lines from a moment of  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ that should not have gotten her worked up. It’s been a long day, she thinks while moving to her feet. 

 

He’s in her living room before she can even call out his name, and it’s before class has even ended. The thought of him storming out of a professor’s classroom because he needed to see her made her sick. “A burden?” he asks her flatly, moving towards her. 

 

There’s nothing quite like seeing his eyes when he’s furious. It reminded her of storm clouds, a rather tame way of describing them. It didn’t feel as if she could just slip into them, frozen. It was more like she would go willingly, captivated by the way they grew dark, and softened at the sight of her. 

 

The black dress was wrinkled, her hands falling to her sides with her nails that she’d bitten down. Painting them didn’t help curve the nasty habit. Her heart beat in chest so hard it made her choke on her words as she stood there helplessly frozen, without a word. 

 

“Yes.” she agrees quietly. “I realize I’ve been depending on you too much, and you’ve had no choice but to be there. It’s too much pressure to put on one person, I think.” 

 

“If you think I want you to put that pressure on anyone else,  _ you are wrong. _ ” he growls, moving towards her swiftly, grabbing her by the tops of her arms and yanking her into him. Draco hugs her tightly, enveloping her in the scent of cologne that she’d replaced for his birthday, in the smell that was simply him, and perhaps her body wash he’d stolen in the morning. His hand, soft, but firm, buried in her hair as he rests his chin on her head. 

 

“I’m so sorry.” she tells him, counting to ten before she lets go of him. It’s nine seconds she shouldn’t have lingered, but can’t help herself as he wraps around her like a security blanket. 

 

His eyes are bloodshot as she steps away, the backs of her calves bumping with the table behind her. “I understand why Weasley knew, but what about Potter? And Theo? You asked Theo to go with you when it should have been me.” 

 

She sucked in a breath, watching the pain his eyes and God, how they dance. “I wanted to tell you, I just felt like it was never the right time. I was going over there to tell Harry. Theo just slipped into his role of being an older brother to me and it just happened.” 

 

“Wasn’t the right time?” he echoed, and it struck her then. It was only the calm before the storm, and she prayed her father was stuck in traffic. “You walked to Potter’s house, which is a few streets away. I am four houses down, and I was  _ right there! _ ” he yelled at her, flinging an arm out in frustration. 

 

“Don’t you dare tell me you were right there when you haven’t been here in weeks! You’re ignoring me, and that’s your business. But it hurt so much to be ignored by you, and I couldn’t risk you still ignoring me in this.” 

 

His lips parted, his nostrils flaring. “Oh? So I haven’t been here? What would you call sleeping beside you every night?” he yelled at her once more, his voice rising when she hadn’t thought it possible. “What do you call talking you through nightmares? Or holding you until you just can’t cry anymore? I’m here for you even though it’s killing me.” 

 

He froze, and her eyes widened. “What do you mean it’s killing you?’ she whispered and he shook his head quickly. “Draco, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, it’s nothing. It’s killing me to see you in so much pain.” 

 

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told me,” she mutters. “In fact, you can lie convincingly. You wanted me to know something was wrong. You want me to figure it out.” 

 

“No.” he hissed. “I do not want you digging around in this at all.” her head tilts to the side as he continues. “You aren’t a charity case to me. You aren’t a burden.” 

 

Hermione looked to the floor. “I’m sorry for the awful things I said.” she offered. “We’re growing apart, and I don’t want that to happen.” 

 

He swallows. “It’s bound to happen, Granger. You’ve got Weasley and the second he finds out I’m sleeping in your room, he’ll be livid. Not that I can blame him. We’re closer than your regular friends.” 

 

“We always have been,” she replied, grabbing his hand. “Is that a problem?” 

 

A sigh slips between his lips. “I don’t know.” She’s unable to look at him. “Weasley and I will probably be even worse now. I may have said some things I should not have.” 

 

Hermione groans, shoving him in the shoulder. “What did you do now? Can’t the two of you get along?” 

 

“Not if you’re involved.” he admitted, and her eyes jerk to him. “I can’t lie to you about it. I don’t care for him, I don’t want him near you, and I don’t know why.” 

 

“Draco..” she began, wiping her face. “I can’t do this right now, I just can’t.” she muttered, whimpering when he tries to pull her in and she places her palms flat against his chest. “I can’t be in the middle of a game of tug of war with you two. Too much has happened to me in the last two months. Will you please be here as my friend, and we can figure out the rest when we need to?” 

 

“As if I could tell you no.” Draco grumbles. “I’m not here to give you an ultimatum. I know I’ve been distant, I know it’s hurt you and really I don’t have to words to apologize.” 

 

She waves him off. “I’m sorry for keeping you out of the loop. I know that must have hurt quite a bit.” Hermione told him quietly. 

 

“If you can manage, please never do that to me again.” she nodded. “I’m yours for the night for your comfort. What do you want to do?” 

 

“Well..” she trails off, pointing to the television behind her. 

 

He groans, his shoulders falling and he rolls his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Reality TV?” he pauses. “You were crying before I got here.” Draco accuses. 

 

A giggle escapes her. “A bride found her perfect dress.” she claps with mock enthusiasm, thrilled at the normalcy of the moment. 

 

“Right. Go wash your face. Streaked makeup is not a good look for you. I’ll make popcorn, yeah?” Draco looks over the three bags that were already empty, not even commenting that clearly she had been finding comfort all on her own. 

 

She nods, taking off towards the stairs, holding her dress down to her sides neatly. 

 

It’s as Draco is watching into the Grangers’ kitchen that he’d blindsided, his back slamming against the stainless steel fridge. “What the fuck,” the boy in front of him hisses, his fingers curled in his shirt as if he was going to throw him to the ground. “Do you mean when you say you’ve been sleeping her every night?” 

 

Draco takes a hard look at Ron Weasley, and shoves him into the kitchen island. “Exactly what I fucking said,” he snarls. “She has nightmares still. It started long before the two of you ever crossed her mind. And no, it doesn’t mean a sodding thing and we’ve never been together in the way you’re thinking.” 

 

“I bloody know she only sees you as her best friend.” he spits, and Draco’s eyes narrow. “That must sting, knowing she doesn’t even see you’ve changed.” 

 

Draco snorts. “You’ve clearly never talked to her about me. She knows something is wrong, and I’ve done everything I can to keep her from figuring it out. Like it or not, Granger is my other half, just like I’m hers.” He takes a menacing step forward, smirking when Weasley takes a step back. “You’re not an awful person, I know. You make her happy, I know.” 

 

“Like you could do better.” Ron snaps, fingers curling into a fist. 

 

“I think we both know I could.” the blond whispers softly. “However, I’m not vying for her affection. I’m not standing in the way of what she wants, and if you’d like to fight me about this another time, I’ll make time. But you won’t do this today, not after what she’s gone through.” 

 

“I’ll concede to that.” Ron says angrily. “Doesn’t change the fact that it should be me in there with her.” 

 

Draco shrugs, dragging him by the collar of his jumper and and down the hallway. He pushed him through the doorway just in time to see Hermione bounding down the stairs. He arches an eyebrow at her pajamas, the same ones as always, but she raises a finger to her lips to hush him. 

 

“Was there someone here?” she asks him. 

 

“Solicitor.” he tells her. “I told them I didn’t care for what they had to say.” Draco smiles at his choice of words, at least he hadn’t lied to her. 

 

“You haven’t made the popcorn!” she groans, trudging into the kitchen only to slip of the hem of her fluffy pajamas, slipping and falling to the floor. 

 

He laughs loudly, bending over to get a good look at her surprised face. “Yes, well it couldn’t be helped. It was a heated argument.” 

 

And, he thinks, it’s only the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, bet you’d seen the last of me! I apologize, this chapter was stupid hard to write, and both me and my alpha had a long week. I wish I could pop out eleven chapters a month for you every month, but breaks are important too! Also, I’m participating in the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology which I -for some reason- made a long ass outline for. 
> 
> P.S. I have a clear vision of where this is heading next, so never fear! 
> 
> Don’t feel obligated to read this next bit, it’s about me, and partly about the story, but you can go without reading. TRSoF is dear to me, because not only do I enjoy writing angst, I enjoy writing about the strength it takes to recover from traumatic events. As that’s what made me start writing. I needed to believe in happy endings. I was asked if I had been a victim of sexual assault like Hermione as I have written her. 
> 
> No, I am fortunate to have never been sexually assaulted. But it is so, so, so important to me to portray this correctly in the case someone that reads this has been through this. This is not me wanting to cry to you; I’m well in control of my emotions now because I have to be. I still suffer from depression and anxiety, and this is my little corner where I can let out the emotions of my childhood. I have no secrets, and what I mean is it’s been six years this year since I was able to quit hurting myself through self harm. 
> 
> And while I love writing angst, romance and love triangles, I wanted to say there’s more reasons than that. I believe I’ve found my niche in Muggle AU, and emotional stories. Which is why once this is finished, you’ll see another from me, possibly triggering because I need it out of my head. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! I apologize for my long note, but the chapter was over five thousand, so I will you will forgive me!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

He knew he’d have to tell her that her boyfriend had been there, loitering in the hallway and hanging on every word they’d said. Draco would have rather handled it himself, stolen the ginger haired prat’s number from her phone and called him. Would have rather told him that he’d cease sleeping here if it meant it wouldn’t have made her even angrier once she learned of his meddling. 

 

So, he decided that he’d tell her before they went to sleep. Giving her the day to unwind before he dropped the news that pushing it off until later would have never worked. Not for her relationship, or his tattered psyche. 

 

He couldn’t help the triumphant smirk that planted itself lazily on his face, as if he’d won something. It was of no consequence considering he’d pay the price later when he had to watch her with her boyfriend. Still, the warmth of her curled up against him made the dull ache in his chest vanish. 

 

She was babbling about how a mother of the bride on her show, how she was a terror and she shouldn’t be so demeaning to the bride. Draco nodded along, murmuring, “Mhm.” at the appropriate times. 

 

Hermione had tied her hair back in a quick bun, strands of it were already falling into her face. Before he thought about it, he reached up and tucked a stray piece behind her ear. “I’m glad you stayed.” her voice was soft, as if she’d hoped he wouldn’t hear it at all. 

 

“I’m sorry I ever made you think I wouldn’t.” he replied, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in his lap. “Things will change as time goes on, but I’ll still be here whenever you need me to be. Sometimes when you dont, just to keep you on your toes.” 

 

A laugh bubbled up within her. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” It’s something she’s done before, he reminded himself, when she pressed her lips to his cheek. “Oh my God, you’re blushing!” she giggled at him, placing her hand against his cheek to feel the warmth creeping up on him. 

 

“I do not blush.” he told hers, flipping up the collar of his jumper and sinking into it to hide his face while she laughs. “Your bride is fighting with her mum again.”

 

She left her teasing of him alone, settling back into the silence besides the television. She tucked her legs beneath her, laying her head back on his shoulder. It doesn’t mean a thing, he thinks, when he drapes his arm around her shoulders and she curls into him more. 

 

Several episodes pass before she yawns, snuggling into the curve of him as if she planned to sleep there. “Granger,” he nudged her gently. “Come on, we can go upstairs.” 

 

“Carry me?” she asked. At first, he just looks at her incredulously, taken by surprise. “My legs are asleep.” she told him, and slipped her arms around his neck. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” But her cheeks are red because the last times he’d done it, she’d wrapped her legs around his waist from the front, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d do it now. There would certainly be a problem. 

 

Draco moved easily, slipping his arms under her back and under the backs of her knees. She exhales in relief, which he ignored. “Dad won’t be back tonight. He’s out of town for a conference.” she told him, while he climbed the stairs. “So, would you lock the door when you leave?” 

 

He exhaled, holding her with one arm, and opening her bedroom door. “I’m not leaving you.” Draco replied, and when her face lights up, all he can think is that he wants her to smile so brightly all of the time. “However, we do need to discuss something.” And her face fell as he sat her on the foot of her bed. 

 

Draco sat beside her, crossing one leg and considered how exactly he should go about this. “Weasley was here earlier.” She tilted her head to the side, lips parting as if she were about to speak. “When you went upstairs to change, he pushed me into the fridge.” Slammed is more like it, but he opts for a tamer description. “He’d heard everything, including the part about me sleeping here.” 

 

“Oh, God.” she groaned. “Did he hurt you though? I’m so sorry,” 

 

“I’m fine, but you can give me a massage if you don’t believe me.” he joked, watching her shoulders relax. “I told him we weren’t like that, and he’s well aware that we are not. He’s jealous, but I suppose I would be to.” 

 

Hermione crosses her legs, adjusting her sock. “He was in the house?” she asks quietly, pulling her phone from the pocket of her jumper. “He’s either so angry he won’t talk to me, or he believed you.” Hermione showed him the screen, void of any notifications. 

 

“Do you really want my opinion on that?” he replied, crossing one leg while he left leg dangles from the bed. 

 

“No,” she sighed harshly, raking her fingers through the hair that was matted with hairspray now. She looked like a disaster after the day. “I already know he’s upset. I knew he would be, but I didn’t know how to tell him the truth without playing into his insecurities. Not that my intentions matter now that I’ve done it anyways, and he must think I lied to him on purpose.” 

 

Draco shook his head. “He doesn’t think that. Weasley made it clear to me that he knows you don’t harbor romantic feelings towards me.”  _ Also, that he’s well aware of my own traitorous feelings that have presented themselves after nearly eighteen years.  _ “I told him that we could talk about it later, but that he couldn't storm up to you after the day you’d had. He agreed. So even if he’s angry, he obviously cares enough to set aside his childish fights.” 

 

“By we, you mean?” 

 

“Weasley and myself.” he cringed when her eyes narrowed. “You can’t think that he will be satisfied until he gets a chance to confront me.” 

 

Her shoulders slumped as she looked down. “I could still try. The two of you just,” she makes an odd motion with her hands, coupled with a sound effect that still doesn’t get her message across. “You don’t banter, you fight.” 

 

“It’s nothing. It will pass just like anything else. Just like the time I almost asked Daphne Greengrass to go see a film with me, and Potter nearly shattered my nose. It always passes.” 

 

Hermione grumbled. “What do you propose to tell him then? It can’t be anything good since you’re so goddamned stubborn.” 

 

He sucked in a breath, his cheeks hollowing. “Hermione,” 

 

“Don’t you dare use my first name to attempt to calm me down when we both know you’re going to tell the last thing I want to hear.” she growled, looking away from him to hide her face. “Just spit it out, no sugar coating it.” 

 

“Just answer a question for me first: do you want this relationship to work for you? I mean, don’t you at least want to give it a fair chance?”

 

“What kind of question is that?” she sputtered, turning back to him. “Of course I do. Would I have ever accepted his advances if I didn’t?” 

 

“Then you have to accept why I’m doing this, okay?” She blinked. “Tonight is the last night I’ll stay over.” Draco expected her eyes to water, for her to tear up and declare in a voice that was just so  _ her _ , that she would find a way to make it work. 

 

However, it seemed she’d realized in the same instant that it just wasn’t feasible. “I see.” she breathes heavily. “I’m thrilled that you have decided what I want, asking me a question like that and then twisting my words!” 

 

“Hermione!” he shouted when she sprung to her feet, grabbing her trainers from beside the door. “Where are you going? It’s freezing outside.” 

 

“I suppose I’ll walk over to the Weasleys’ since you’ve gotten it into your head that I trust him more, that I’d rather him sleep beside me.” she threw her hands up, opening the door. 

 

“Wait a bloody second.” he snarled, hands coming down on her waist. “You’re the one twisting words now.” She glares at him as he turns her, the bedroom door shutting with a thud behind her. “Do not, I’m serious, stop smirking, tell me I’d rather you crawl into his bed so he can fucking cuddle you.” 

 

Her eyes widen for a moment, and he thinks he’s caught as the wheels in her head turn. And there’s a flicker, something small that will raise a doubt in the months to follow, but she doesn’t confront him. “I’ve always been protective of you, haven’t I?” 

 

Hermione glances at his arms, his sleeves shoved up from when he grabbed her, that are on either side of her head while his palms are planted on the door. She nodded as she’s caged between him and the wall, though their bodies don’t touch. “I also know you would never hurt me, so being grabbed by you in particular doesn’t make me panic.” She looked up at him, eyes full of the emotions that he cannot even begin to sift through. 

 

“In hindsight, I shouldn't have manhandled you at all, but you’re not the only one who reacts impulsively.” he replied, watching as her eyes dart from his chest to his gaze. 

 

“You always say that I’m the one who jumps before thinking. You hardly ever do.” 

 

“True, but every time I do, it’s always because of you.” Silence, and then, “Nothing to say?” she shook her head. “I’d draft a list of all the reasons I don’t like him, but they wouldn’t be enough for you. So let’s start with this: every time you’re alone with him, I’m terrified I get that call again. That I miss it, and you’re hurting somewhere without me there to make it better.” 

 

“Oh, fuck.” she whimpered, bringing her palms to her eyes to wipe the tears away harshly. 

 

“And,” he added softly. “I know he would  _ never  _ hurt you like Cormac McLaggen did. You have to believe I’m not accusing him of being capable of rape.” 

 

“I know you’re not.” she sniffled. “I’m just too emotional to hear things like that right now, I think.” 

 

“Well, I’m not quite done.” she cursed under her breath, reaching out to ball her fists in his jumper and pull him an inch away from her. “Ron Weasley is probably a great guy, could probably make you content, but that’s not the happiness I think you deserve.” 

 

“Draco, how could you even know that he won’t be able to make me happy? We’ve barely been together three weeks. What could he do that makes me want more?” she whispered, and he knows because he’s known her his entire life, that she’s afraid to hear the answer. 

 

He sighs, stepping out of her hold while he yanks on his collar. The room is stifling and the garment is nearly choking him. “Maybe I’ll never think anyone is good enough for you, Hermione. Have you ever stopped to look at yourself? Have you ever taken notice of how great you are? You’re not lucky to be with anyone; they’re lucky to be with you.” 

 

“I’m going to kill you for making me cry so much.” she wiped her eyes once more, blinking repeatedly to at least try to stop the tears. “I don’t want you to leave, you know? It’s always been us.” 

 

Draco sat on the bed, hair tousled,  watching her slide down the door until she’s sitting down, staring at her feet dejectedly. “We’ve never needed to sleep beside one another, not since we hit puberty anyway.” he told her. 

 

“Draco, I need you to sleep. You don’t need me to sleep. I’m just a warm body that annoys you in the middle of the night for a pillow.” 

 

He snorts, but doesn’t bother telling her she’s only half right. The pillow bit is true; she manages to pull him onto his back and lay her head on his chest in her sleep nearly every night. “So what if it’s just you?” The lie burns his tongue. “If I were in his place, I would be livid that my girlfriend was snuggling up to her best friend every night. Okay, that’s the truth, because we’ve been listening to any and everyone tell us how we’re going to end up together. And that we just don’t realize it yet.” 

 

She’s silent, mulling something over in her mind. And his heart fucking aches because it’s right there, all of it, and she’s too oblivious to see it, because she honestly believes he’d never see her in that light.  _ As if she’s just his little sister that he totes around,  _ Luna had told him. Looney had come to him in private, having not missed his mood swings. 

 

“Fine.” she sighed. “I’ll try, only because you’re right. Again. Will you still help me fall asleep though? It’s easy, nothing hard.” 

 

Idiot, he thought. He’d do nearly anything for her, if she asked. Hell, if she asked him to sneak over anyway after telling Ron he wouldn’t, he was disappointed to say he would. Luckily, she was the one with a conscience. “What?” 

 

“Maybe, just until my doctor decides if sleeping medication would be best for me.” she nibbled on her bottom lip. The act is sensual without effort and he wanted to strangle her for holding this kind of effect over him. “Maybe a phone call, we could just talk until I fall asleep? If that’s not too much to ask.” 

 

“Is it not clear I’ll do anything for you?” he rolled his eyes as she flushed, a blush covering her cheeks and down her neck. “Yes, of course, however many languages you need confirmation in. But if you’re going to date him, shouldn’t he be the one to do that for you?” It’s the very last thing he wants to her to choose, but he couldn’t help but realize how selfish he was, and that she’d said she wanted to give it a fair shot. And that maybe he should try to get over this instead of holding on so tightly. 

 

Her eyes widen, as if she’s been slapped with the realization of something. “I,” she stuttered, repeating herself as she attempted to weave a coherent sentence. “Probably, but when-when we’re closer, and I feel comfortable.” she told him, but like he’s stated, he knows her far too well. 

 

And her lie is written all over her face. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Three hours later, they still have not slept. Hermione had decided if it was the last night he’d spend at her house, she’d at least like to be awake. So backing out of her bedroom, he didn’t grab her this time, she dashed for his keys, twirling them around in her hand.

 

He lets her drive his car, begrudgingly, to the twenty four hour supermarket after lazily tossing her wallet into his lap. She nestled into the leather seats, backing out of her driveway only after looking down the street to see that all the lights at the Malfoy residence are turned off, and she sang along to the radio. 

 

She’d of course dragged him into the book section, which was miniscule compared to her favorite used book shop in London. Hermione adored used books, claiming that several owners gave the manuscript more history, made it even more special to her. 

 

He thought it was too whimsical for him to believe, but he never said anything. Not even as she grabbed three books that he was certain she’d already had. “These have the original covers, Malfoy. Not those ratty movies covers I have at home.” 

 

“You little swot, I bought those for you.” she blanched, laughing it off awkwardly when she sees him smiling anyways. “You could have just told me they weren’t the ones you wanted.” 

 

She shrugged. “Despite me giving you a hard time, I love all the things you’ve ever given me. They’re special.” 

 

“Why is that?” 

 

Hermione tapped him on the nose twice, grinning. “Why else? It’s because they’re from you.” she turned on her heels, her fingers wrapping around his wrist as she tugged him towards the frozen section. “Ice cream?” 

 

“Do you plan to sleep at all tonight?” he laughed at her as he watched her climb the shelving inside of the freezer to reach the top shelf. 

 

“No,” she answered quietly. “I really just don’t want to waste any time with you if I’m honest.” 

 

“That’s okay.” he replied. 

 

Draco let her drive once more, watching her dance in the seat as her “favorite” song comes on,  despite the fact that she’s already said that five times since leaving the store. She takes the long way back to their neighborhood, driving aimlessly. 

Sneaking his phone out, he took a picture of her. Weasley’s photo of her from their date had been stunning, thanks to the subject of it. She hardly wore makeup, not seeing a need for it, a small fact that already set her apart from most of the girls in their grade, and then there was her intelligence, her love of books. 

 

But this Hermione had to be his favorite. Dressed in sweats, and having stolen one of his jumpers. One that was far too big and it just draped over her smaller frame. That, and maybe he just preferred her in his clothes. Smiling while singing along to the radio while she swayed, fingers splayed against the wheel and her hair not as perfect as she attempted to make it. And perhaps, if he had to say the moment he realized that he had fallen into one of the oldest stories, he would have told you it was right then. 

 

As he saved the picture to a new album that he would later add all of her photos too, captioned with a red heart. The significance in the small emoji being that she always sent it to him, to everyone really, even though he didn’t realize it at the time. 

 

He would have told you he realized he was indeed in love with Hermione Jean Granger, best friend, and confidant as she mistakenly ran a stop light in the middle of London. While she grimaced and he could only chuckle. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay in my updates! I may or may not have submerged myself in my anime/manga addiction once more. And I may or may not have read Ghost Hunt fanfiction for six days straight. 
> 
> I was going to combine this with the next chapter, but to be as powerful as I wanted it to be, it needed to be alone. Since it’s Draco’s POV, I didn’t want to swap out POV’s. So, we’re here. He realizes it. He sees her and he knows and I’m so happy! 
> 
> *the happier I am depends on how angsty I have written. 
> 
> Till next chapter!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m here, I’m here, I’m here! I apologize profusely for not updating sooner. It just wasn’t coming.
> 
>  
> 
> From my alpha Christina, she is also super sorry! We both had ridiculous schedules with close to no free time. Two people quit at my job so I’ve been working an ass ton of overtime.
> 
>  
> 
> While we were gone however, The Red String of Fate won the award of Admin/Mod’s favorite story of the season in the Granger Enchanted Awards! I cried a lot, so thank you Amy/MrBenzedrine.

 

She hadn’t slept. Despite the multiple times Draco told her to just fall asleep, she’d forced herself to stay awake. Not that it wouldn’t have been easy to slip into slumber, while they were settled on the couch watching movies. He was warm, his arm wrapped around her, and his index finger pausing to play with her curls when she wasn’t looking. 

 

Well, he thought she wasn’t looking. Hermione was unsure of what she would say to Ron in the morning, unsure of how he would take the fact that she was  _ furious _ . Draco had clarified that he had left the front door unlocked after using his key to open the door. He’d been too angry to even think about locking it behind him when his thoughts had been focused on her. 

 

No matter, even if he hadn’t just broken into her house. It was her safe place, the one location she had begun to feel comfortable alone. And to find out her boyfriend waltzed inside only to eavesdrop instead of announcing himself, she was livid. Draco maintained the stance that he couldn’t blame Ron for being upset with the truth, the truth that her best friend slept beside her every night. 

 

Hermione understood, she did, how it seemed. The lingering fact remained that she wanted a way out of this where Draco stayed with her, and he’d already made up his mind. She noticed the guilt etched into his features, or how his arm was too tense around her shoulders. He wasn’t as comfortable with her anymore. And while most might have thought it was because their behavior was abnormal, perhaps he felt guilty due to her relationship status, she knew it wasn’t.  Because Malfoy didn’t give a shite about Ron Weasley, or his feelings. 

 

This was something else, something that made her stomach twist, but not uncomfortably. She looked at him, he had to be aware she was staring, her eyes roaming over the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes weren’t focused on the latest Marvel movie they were watching. The one he’d picked. 

 

Still, her stomach only ever twisted when she looked at him, and God, it was so much worse when he caught her. Having eyes that reminded her of storms focused on her, and there was no reason why he should be inciting butterflies, or the warm feeling in her lower belly. “You okay?” Draco asked her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. 

 

Her breath caught -she hoped he didn’t notice-, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. Just nerves.” she tried to laugh it off, only to have him arch an eyebrow while he turned away from her. 

 

“You’re still a bad liar.” he told her. 

 

“I know. You’re still too good of a liar, how could I ever know if you were lying to me?” Hermione ventured, testing his reaction. 

 

He didn’t disappoint. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a moment before his expressions were stoic once more. Then he sighed, releasing her hand. “Hermione, I’ve only ever lied to you when it was for the best. I wouldn’t even call it lying; just omitting the entire truth.” 

 

She didn’t say anything in reply. While he had the annoying tendency of being right, Hermione Granger was  _ always right.  _ And she had not doubt this was connected to his odd behavior, and her heart that seemed to be thrashing about her chest-due to his heated words in her bedroom earlier. 

 

Without anything short of questioning him, thus revealing how she’d been observing him, she’d had to be patient. Which she wasn’t. She was right, but she’d have to wait. 

  
  
  


In a rare burst of confidence Hermione pulled a dress from her wardrobe. The fabric cinched around her waist, only to flow out right above her knees. She paired it with a black cardigan that actually belonged to Ginny, but it was October. Her arms would freeze if she didn’t cover them. Holding onto her dresser, leaning all of her weight on it, she slipped her flats on. 

 

“Are you nearly done?” she called out to Draco, hoping he might hear her over the running water. “I need to use that mirror!” Not that she’d actually looked, but she was sure to have dark circles under her eyes. 

 

“No, but you can come in. You wouldn’t be able to see through the glass anyway.” he told her, right before cursing at something. 

 

Hermione bit her lip. She should really wait, and let him finish his shower first, but they would be late with how long it took her to apply makeup correctly. “Sod it,” she muttered, wrenching the door open. Her eyes only lingered on the frosted glass for a moment, it was foggy. He was right, she wouldn’t be able to see anything of course. But she thought back to seeing his bare chest weeks before and she blushed. 

 

“No peeking, Granger.” he sang at her and she growled under her breathe, reaching over to flush the toilet immediately. “You bitch!” he snapped. 

 

She watched him jump back to the wall where the water couldn’t touch him, well just his outline. “Don’t patronize me. Why would I peek at you in the shower? Of all people.” she scoffed, hastily applying foundation. She didn’t give a damn, Ginny could even it out later. This stupid blush had to go away before he hopped out of the shower. 

 

“Even you can’t deny that I’m attractive.” he answered. 

 

Her hiccup was covered the water. “No, what you are is arrogant, Draco Malfoy.” He only laughed, switching the water off, and she saw him reach out to grab a towel. “Have you gotten so few compliments this week,” he stepped out of the shower, the towel slung low around his hips while he raked his fingers through his hair. 

 

Her eyes widened. It wasn’t as if she wanted to take a long, slow onceover of his body. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him without a shirt in the past, but she’d never seen the cut lines leading into his towel, shaped into a V that made her understand why Ginny read those ridiculous magazines. Her cheeks heated up. 

 

He’d looked away, probably because she was biting her lip like an idiot and was trying to excuse her from further embarrassing herself. 

 

Hermione cut her staring short, focusing on the makeup in front of her, swallowing what would have been a gasp and finished her statement. “That you need me pick up the slack?” 

 

He smirked, reaching past her to open the medicine cabinet with a flick of his wrist. He towered over her, always had save for when they were eleven and she’d had an inch on him for all of six months. Draco grabbed his toothbrush. “I don’t need you to compliment me, per se. Your constant blushing and adorable stuttering is enough for me.” 

 

She blinked, and then knocked his toothbrush from his hand. “Do you just enjoy making me look like a tomato?” 

 

He shrugged. “You just make it so easy.” he answered. “You knocked my toothbrush into the bin by the way.” 

 

“Whoops.” 

 

However he just smiled at her while he turned towards the door that would lead into her bedroom. “Hermione?” 

 

Her eyes shot open at her father’s voice, paired with the bathroom door being pushed open. Hermione glanced at the mirror, seeing that her father hadn’t noticed the blond inside the room with her just yet. The tube of concealer falling from her fingers, already long forgotten, she lunged forward. “Uh, I’m not decent.” she called, shoving Draco against the bathroom door, and landing against him with her chest pressed to his. 

 

Draco choked on something in his throat, and she clapped a hand over his mouth. He nodded, exhaling as she let her hand fall. Hermione reached down to flip the lock into place. “I didn’t know you’d be home so early.” 

 

Deep laughter bled through the door.. “I’m sorry to scare you. I just wanted to tell you goodbye before I left for work again.” 

 

“Oh, okay. How was your trip?” She should have moved off of him, there was no reason to remain pressed against him when he was only in a towel. Draco’s head fell against the door, noticed by her, but the way his hand rested on her hip went unobserved. 

 

“It was long and boring, like usual. Tell Draco I said hello.” 

 

“What?” Her voice was too high, like it always was when she had done something she shouldn’t have. Not that her father would be angry he was in her shower, but she could imagine his reaction if he got the idea that they had showered  _ together.  _

 

“His car is in the driveway, Hermione. He’s in the downstairs bathroom.” 

 

“Oh, yeah.” she replied lamely. “I’ll tell him.” she slipped clumsily on the wet tile, only to be caught in a strong hold by her hips by Draco. “Have a good day. I love you.” Her father murmured the same, and she didn’t relax until her bedroom door shut. “I am so sorry.” she started, but Draco only held up his hand. 

 

“No need to apologize. Your dress is soaking wet now.” Hermione glanced down, groaning as she saw the soft blue fabric sticking to her like a second skin. “Wear the red one.” he told her softly, opening the door behind him. “I like that one more.” 

 

“Red one, right.” she managed, beating the urge to ask him why exactly he liked that one more. “We’re going to be late.” 

 

He shrugged. “Might as well get breakfast then. Lose the makeup too; it doesn’t hide your blush at all.”

 

“Okay,” she laughed softly. 

 

“It’s a shame, you know.” Hermione tilted her head in confusion. “Now that you’ve seen me,” he gestured towards himself, Hermione’s eyes following down his bare chest and to the edge of the bright blue towel. “No one else will ever measure up.” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an arrogant arse hole.” she spat out, turning back to the mirror. 

 

“Maybe, but you didn’t deny it.” The door shut behind him, so he didn’t see her grip the counter and lean towards the mirror. Nor did he see her face fall as she thought the lines of friendship were blurred. 

 

And that she wasn’t all that sure what was going on anymore. 

  
  


* * *

 

They were thirty minutes late, only allowing her the glimpses of Ron between classes until the bell rang to release them for lunch. Professor Snape eyed her curiously as she huffed, flipping her hair over and tying it up in a lazy top knot. “Stupid bloody mane,” she hissed. Draco chuckled while sliding his phone from his pocket. She still wasn’t over Snape’s sarcastic comment of, 

 

“Don’t add hair to the experiment, Miss Granger.” The dark haired man stifled what she was positive was laughter as she glared daggers his way. 

 

“Hermione,” she turned to Draco, glancing down at the hand he’d placed on her forearm. “Theo says to meet everyone at the fountain. Something about the police being here.” She blinked, letting herself be tugged along as he grabbed her bag for her. 

 

She wiggled her way out of his grip, walking twice as fast as he did in order to keep up with his strides. “Theo didn’t say anything else?” He shook his head, shrugging as they pushed the double doors leading to the court yard open. Her lips parted in surprise. Surely enough, two vehicles belonging to the police had blocked the entrance into the school’s parking lot. 

 

But it was the sight of Sirius Black, his features contorted in anger as he growled something to Headmaster Dumbledore that made her stomach drop. She looked around, Lucius would be here, she was sure of it. He wouldn’t let the chance to humiliate McLaggen pass him by. Judging from the weary look of Theodore Nott’s face, he knew as surely as she did. 

 

He hadn’t said anything, she realized as they neared their group of friends. Ron smiled at her, opening his arm to give her an awkward hug in which she slipped both arms around his torso. “Quite the scene,” Ginny rambled on, glancing over her with a smile. “I wonder what’s happened?” 

 

“Whatever it is has Dumbledore up in arms as well.” Harry commented. “I’ve never seen him so angry.” 

 

Well, given the storm the elder Malfoy had brewed up in his office directly after McLaggen rendered Ron unconscious, she wasn’t surprised. Not that she knew much at all, only that he refused to expel her assailant no matter how hard Lucius fought for it. He’d chosen to move his classes out of range of her, chosen to attempt damage control rather than expelling him. 

 

If Cormac were to be arrested, he would be expelled from Hogwarts without a doubt. Angry letters from parents concerning the safety of their children would start. Likely, this had been the plan her second father had come up with, probably before she’d ever gone to him. 

 

Hermione swallowed just as Ron’s arm dropped from her waist. Draco had whispered something in his ear, nodding his way away from the crowd. Her eyes widened, and her grip on her boyfriend tightened. “Is this really necessary?” 

 

“It’s fine, Granger.” Draco sighed. 

 

Ron looked as if it most definitely wasn’t fine, but he caved. “Mione, it’s for the best that Malfoy and I talk as well. I can’t exactly go on hating his guts since he’s your friend.” her fingers loosened on his wrist.  “We’re only going to talk.” 

 

“Like I don’t know what happens when two blokes ‘talk’ when one of them is angry.” she huffed, dropping her hand and turning to look at Sirius once more. Draco only shook his head, dropping his bag beside her feet and walked with Ron, back towards the entrance of the school. 

 

Theo poked her in the side. “Do you think this is it?” he asked her quietly, sucking in a breath when she nodded. “I haven’t seen Draco’s dad.” 

 

“He’ll be here.” she surmised, turning to him. Harry was on his right, sitting on the fountain with Daphne at his side. Their fingers were laced together, and he was whispering in her ear. Harry looked at her, never tearing his eyes away from her while a smile settled on her lips. 

 

“Well, while we wait for the other shoe to drop, Halloween is next week.” Theo started, only to be cut off by Hermione as she crossed her arms. 

 

“You’re far too old to be going door to door for sweets.” she teased, earning a loud laugh from Daphne. Hermione grinned at her. 

 

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mum, but I was thinking.” 

 

Her hand flew over her heart as she gasped. Harry was already snickering into the hand that was holding his girlfriend’s- a new development. “ _ Thinking?  _ Oh, no, are you okay, dear?” Hermione laid the back of her hand over his forehead as if she were checking for a fever. 

 

“As I was saying,” he gritted out, while Luna smiled cheekily at his side. She winked to Hermione. “My parents are gone.” 

 

“Aren’t they always? Must get lonely.” Harry interjected. 

 

Theo growled, smacking Harry in the face with the back of his hand, sending the boy into the fountain while Daphne scrambled away from him. “As I was saying,” Hermione giggled, putting her hands up. “Before you all interrupted me  _ multiple  _ times, we should have a Halloween party.” 

 

Harry agreed while spitting up water. Daphne nodded, looking down at Harry, who was already shivering at he sat in the water, covered from the waist up. But Theo was waiting for her response, and with the way her heart flew up against her rib cage, she wasn’t sure at all. “It’s just a thought.” he told her. 

 

She nodded weakly, looking down at her shaking hands. “It’s not as if I have to drink of course.” she muttered. “I’ll be with all of you. Perfectly safe.” Except her words sound fake to herself, as if she hardly believes them. 

 

“Or,” Theo hastily added. “We could watch horror movies. You and Luna love to laugh at them.” Hermione swallowed, grimacing at his attempts to smooth over her reaction. 

 

“Oh, Tori has a huge collection she could bring.” Daphne began to tell them, but her eyes shot open as she jumped to her feet. “Hermione,  _ move _ .”

 

* * *

  
  


“She’ll never believe we had a civil conversation.” Ron told him, leaning against the lockers just inside of the school. The corridor is empty, all of their classmates having gone to the Great Hall, save for their friends and a few stragglers that were littered over the courtyard. “Hell, I don’t want to have a civil conversation. I’d rather beat you to a bloody pulp.” 

 

Draco snorted. “I’d like to see you try, Weasley. That’s the difference between us. I can keep my emotions in check if it keeps her happy.” 

 

Ron’s eyes flashed. “How long have you been sleeping with her?” 

 

Draco holds his hands up, ready to push the ginger away from him should he lunge toward him. “To be perfectly clear, we both know how some of our peers would eavesdrop, Granger and I have never done anything except for sleeping. I’ve never done what you’re worried about.” 

 

“So that’s also to say that she sleeps on the opposite side, and she never comes in contact with you?” he questions angrily, his hands balling into fists. “That’s to say you’re not cuddling my fucking girlfriend?” 

 

Draco hesitates, wishing he hadn’t asked her if she wanted this bloody relationship to work. Ron Weasley is an utter prat, and he wanted nothing more than to settle this physically. “It started out with me making a wall, using pillows, so we wouldn’t touch. It’s been like this since shortly after she was released from the hospital.” 

 

“How in the fuck did you go from making a wall-,” 

 

“She always crawled over the pillows in her sleep, Weasley.” Draco snaps, smirking at the hurt that flashes across his face. Then he sighs. “I’m sorry. In all honesty, I shouldn’t have let it continue.” 

 

“What?” Ron asked him, his features freezing as he gave him a once over. “It’s hell for you, isn’t it?” Draco only glares at him. “I used to worry that all the times she and I have spent together would mean nothing when she realized she was in love with you. That’s not how it is though. She’s never given you a second thought. How awful it must be to realize you’re too late.” 

 

Draco growled, a low sound coming from his throat as he stepped towards the boy before him. “What will you do, I wonder.” Ron continues. “If you beat the shit out of me like you did McLaggen, she’ll be furious. After all, I’ve only been civil.” 

 

“Don’t pretend to know how I feel for her, Weasley. It’s only a matter of time before she sees how slimy you are. I’ll still be her best friend. If she knew half of what you’ve said about her when she’s not around, she’d end this relationship. Did you actually believe Dean wouldn’t mention you’re comments in the locker room? Of how you can’t wait to take her virginity, as if you’re entitled to it just by being her boyfriend.” 

 

“Probably all you’ll ever be, isn’t it?” he snaps, ignoring the last part of him spiel, and Draco is about to reply when he hears it. Ron’s eyes widen at the scream, a scream that is so clearly  _ hers.  _ And the smirk that didn’t quite fit on his freckled face falls. 

 

“I want you to remember who she screams for when she needs help, when she’s in danger.” he hisses, shoving the door open.

 

* * *

  
  


It happened so quickly, Hermione didn’t bother to process the events as they occurred. If she was honest, which she would be later, this was the easy part. It sounded insane the more she thought about it, but fighting a boy twice her size, that could bench press her weight had been the easy part of that night. 

 

The moments that came after were the ones that gutted her, left her sitting in a bathtub full of cold water, crying while she pretended it was all okay. 

 

If she were honest, Hermione Granger might have mentioned that she wasn’t angry Cormac McLaggen had barreled through a crowd of students to grapple her by her throat. In retrospect, she was the odd kind of thrilled, because it gave her a moment to fight back. Fighting was easy; surviving was not, and she knew she wasn’t vindictive. 

 

But the boy who squeezed her as if he were trying to crush her windpipe, the same one who slammed her backwards into her favorite spot at Hogwarts, brought everything to the surface. From the way his eyes were void of any compassion, or remorse, to the way she gritted her teeth so roughly they might crack to her gums. And just like the first time, she screamed. She managed a loud, “Draco!” before she sucked in a breath as she went underwater.  

 

Through the rippling water, she could see the heavy form of Theo grabbing at Cormac, could feel the pressure holding her underwater loosening and tightening as he nearly lost his grip on her. 

 

Hermione strained, her arms reaching out of the water, Ginny’s black, wool cardigan clinging to her arms. Slender and pale, her fingers strained until she finally caught him, and she raked her nails down his cheek. Hermione thrashed, kicking her legs from where they were still hanging outside of the fountain. 

 

It was over as quickly as she’d been submerged. Ending with Cormac being hauled to his feet, and then being tossed to the concrete roughly by Sirius. Hands reached for her; she flinched away from them as she was lifted from the icy water, shivering. 

 

“Granger. Granger,” he repeated, looking over his shoulder and nodding for Ron to come to her side. “You’re safe.” She opened her eyes finally, trembling as she wound her arms around his neck, hanging onto him. “Weasley’s here.” 

 

She recognized the attempt at camaraderie, realized she probably should have at least let her boyfriend attempt to console her. Hermione shook her head, sobbing quietly into crook of Draco’s neck. “Please don’t let anyone see me like this.” she whispered, listening as he relayed the message to Ron. 

 

“Hermione,” Ron had kneeled beside her, his body heat radiating from her side. “He’s gone. They’re arresting him.”

 

She nodded, peeking out to see him. Not that she made eye contact, but she saw the denim of his jeans, how he was resting on  his knees beside her. “Weasley, don’t do th,-” Hermione recoiled when fingers trailed along her spine, an attempt to comfort her she knew, though he had no idea. “Weasley, stop grabbing at her, fuck,” 

 

Draco’s arms locked around her, bringing her shaking frame into him as she hiccuped. “Hermione, breathe with me.” She noted the Italian shoes, they belonged to Lucius, as they came into view moments before she slipped out of consciousness. 

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While a lot of you actually don’t like Ron, I actually do. I also like playing with the fact that good people can say bad things, and it doesn’t make them a horrible person by default. So bear in mind that he truly did not know touching her would cause a panic attack. And the bit about him talking about her virginity, he got ahead of himself.
> 
>  
> 
> One of the reviewers wanted to know how he was in the house, that’s in this chapter. Also, Christina had chapter fifteen right now, so hopefully in a few days you’ll get a new chapter to make up for my absence.
> 
>  
> 
> On a different note, I came up with an idea for a new AU. Dramione. Raw idea: Draco Malfoy has committed suicide. So why is her stuck with Hermione Granger when he should already be in the afterlife? And why is this intolerable girl, a girl that should hate him, trying to convince him he has something to live for?
> 
>  
> 
> P.S you all get to meet Astoria next chapter. You’ll hate her for a bit, but she’s great.


	15. Chapter 15

The cots in the infirmary were far from comfortable, as she slowly adjusted to the sounds- voices, actually- around her. Several people were arguing, two of them being close to her side, and she heard a low voice from just beyond the door. 

 

That was the muffled argument between Lucius Malfoy and Headmaster Dumbledore she realized as she brought her palm to rest against her forehead. She was clammy, covered up to her shoulders with a thin white blanket that Madame Pomfrey must have thrown over her when she’d been brought in, still dripping from being shoved into the fountain. 

 

“Shut up, Weasel.” Draco’s voice was clear, angry and she thought she heard the sound of him smacking Ron’s hand away. “I might have admitted that it wasn’t your fault, but if you touch her without her express permission  _ again _ , I’ll drown you in the nearest water fountain.” 

 

Hermione laughed, the sound coming out hoarsely. “There’s a glass of water on the table beside you.” Ron told her gently, watching her sit up slowly. 

 

Her back ached from being thrown around like a rag doll. Taking a look down at herself, her dress was gone. Someone, she hoped it was the nurse or a female friend, had taken it upon themselves to rid her of the soaking garments, and had dressed her in plain black, save for HOGWARTS RUGBY running down the side in white lettering, joggers and a dark green shirt. Ginny’s, she realized, just from the perfume. 

 

She was certain the bottoms belonged to Draco or Ron, probably Draco’s given the length of the legs. Throwing the blanket at her feet, she crossed her legs and looked between the two of them. “This day is shit.” she finally said, rolling her eyes as Malfoy stifled a laugh from behind his hand. “I’m fine.” she said to Draco moreso than Ron. “But I think I should talk to Ron in private now.” 

 

“Of course,” Draco replied, as if he had been expecting that. His demeanor gave away the fact that it didn’t mean he was happy about it. “Your dad is here, so whenever you’re done, you should talk to him.” 

 

Hermione nodded, reaching up and squeezing his hand as he stood. “Hey, thank you for pulling me out of the fountain. You’re the only one I wouldn’t have attacked.” She didn’t miss the blank expression on Ron’s face, or the way the corners of Draco’s lips quirked up into a smile. “I’ll talk to you later. Let the others know I’m fine, really.” 

 

He let the door shut behind him, and her hands fell into her lap, with her clasping them as she mulled over the newfound silence. “I didn’t mean to hurt you when I didn’t want you to touch me.” Hermione began, keeping her eyes on her black socks. Which were most definitely mens, as they were too large for her dainty feet. 

 

“I’m not upset about that, Hermione.” Ron cleared his throat, the unsaid message  _ but there is something I’m upset about  _ hanging in the air. “There’s no need to explain yourself.” 

 

“Appreciate that,” she managed before diving into the part that was sure to make his blood boil, considering the fact that he would take it the wrong way. “I would like for you to explain yourself though.” she looked up just in time to see his eyes widen, something flickering behind cerulean. “You were in my house, uninvited, and eavesdropped. Then you confronted my best friend when you should have confronted me.” 

 

His jaw twitched, his hand absently curling into a fist. It didn’t matter much in the moment that logic said he wouldn’t hurt her; she scrambled backwards anyway. “I had come to check on you. I knew that you’d filed your report that day and then you never came back to school, but Theo did. I wondered if you were okay.” 

 

“I believe you, but why didn’t you tell me you were there?” 

 

“Because I heard that he’s been sleeping at your house every night!” he finally snapped. Hermione sucked in a breath. “I was jealous. Fuck, I am jealous even still. I understand why you trust him that much, but I could be there for you if you let me. You haven’t let me.” 

 

“I know.” she whispered, unable to bring herself to maintain eye contact. Of course she’d known her nightly habits were bound to blow up in her face. Harry had pointed it out, Theo had pointed it out, but she hadn’t wanted to end it. “I’m not sure how to trust someone new, I think. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

 

“Hermione,” 

 

She cut him off. “I do know that you’re special to me.” she continued, reaching over to grab his hand. “And that I brushed you off when you were jealous, although there’s no reason for you to be. Draco thinks of me as a younger sister; he’s never seen me in a romantic light.”

 

“What about you? Do you see him as a brother? Or do you see him as more than that?” Ron didn’t hold back as he questioned her. If it weren’t for the earlier events, he might have noticed how she paled at his thinly veiled accusation. Might have noticed that her heart was beating erratically if he were more observant.

 

“He’s my closest friend, and nothing more.” she replied, ignoring the stabbing guilt in her stomach. She didn’t see herself with Draco, couldn’t really. Not when he dated- shagged- girls like Pansy Parkinson. Who she might call pug face, but if she was honest the girl was stunning. Hermione had seen the pretty blondes Draco had busied himself with at the parties Harry and Theo arranged. 

 

So what did it really matter that she’d thought of him differently when he stepped out of her shower in nothing but a towel? It would only hurt Ron if he were to know that falling against Draco’s bare chest that morning in her bathroom had made her nerves tingle more than a kiss from her boyfriend ever had. 

 

“If you’re going to tell me that I have to choose one of you though, see yourself out.” Hermione finished, watching him closely. “I’m not carrying some sort of torch for him, waiting for him to notice me. So really, tell me what you want.” 

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he sounded tired, tired of this day, tired of trying to read between the lines. “Are you suggesting we break up?” 

 

“Idiot.” she muttered. “No, Ron, I’m not suggesting we break up. I’m perfectly happy with you, and I’d like to think you feel the same way. What I’m saying is that if I’m your girlfriend, you have to stop picking fights with him. Which I will tell him the exact same thing. Don’t think of this as me being on his side.” 

 

He sighed. “Will you promise me that he won’t sleep over at your house anymore? If only for my peace of mind.” 

 

She fought the urge to point out that she wanted him to trust her regardless, but the words died in her throat. It was a double standard, one she couldn’t put him through. If the roles were reversed and there was a girl in his bed, she would never be calm about it. “He’s not going to be there anymore.” she told him softly, concealing her disappointment. “Draco made that decision on his own last night.” 

 

He was silent, unsure of what to say. So she made the effort, telling herself that it had only been a bad morning, and she truly did want to extend her trust. Afterall, Draco had just asked her not even twelve hours if she wanted this relationship to work. 

  
She did. Of course she did. 

* * *

 

“If I can’t sleep, or if I have a nightmare, could I call you? It might be late. Could be three in the morning, they’re awfully random.” 

 

“Yeah,” he breathed, kissing her forehead gently. Hermione wasn’t sure what made the tear roll down her cheek. 

  
  
  


If there was anything Theo was good at, it was damage control. Of course, there was only so much he could do with their classmates talking rather loudly about the arrest that had taken place in their parking lot. If it had been anyone but Hermione, his pseudo baby sister, he’d have been gossiping about it as well. But it was her, and she’d been quiet ever since leaving the infirmary. He’d watched from his spot against the lockers, looking down at Draco while his friend watched Hermione loop her arms around her father’s neck and press a kiss to his cheek. 

 

“What did she want to talk to Weasley about?” Theo asked him lowly. The boy in question was leaned up against the wall, Lucius Malfoy towering over him in what just had to be “the talk”. The conversation of how he’d obliterate the teenager if he hurt his goddaughter. It was an odd family dynamic, or seemed like it until you see them together. 

 

Draco shrugged though, clasping his hands in front of himself, elbows resting on his knees. “If I had to guess I’d say it was to tell him that she was sorry for trying to get away from him.” his voice was low. “Much as I’d like to blame him fully, I can’t. Not like he knew what caused her to have panic attacks.” 

 

“Yeah,” Theo drawled. “But you know all of that, all of her fears, and what sets her off. Of course you know how to comfort her.” 

 

“Does this have a point or are you attempting to convince me I’m in love with her again?” he was met with silence and a hard look from Potter, who sat cross legged in the floor. His girlfriend was gone, having walked with her younger sister to their next class. “For fucks sake, Theo, let it go. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

 

Theo scoffed. “When this blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t try to help, mate. She’s right there.” he motioned out to her. “Which is worse: denying the fact that you think it should be you she’s going out with, or having never tried at all? Because you know it’s only a matter of time before you start thinking what would have happened if I’d got my shit together and told her? What if I’d fought for her?” 

 

Draco clenched his jaw, growling for his friend to sod off. “Let it go.” he snarled and Theo just threw his hands in the air in an unlike Theo motion. 

 

Potter said nothing as he watched Draco carefully. He already knew they would just have to wait for this to come to a head. It would be awful, it would be messy once Hermione realized what she had looked over. “Are we having the party on Halloween?” Harry asked, grinning when Hermione turned to glare at his loud voice. Still, she gave a barely perceptible nod. “She gave the go ahead.” 

 

“Keep Cormac McLaggen out of that party or I’ll strangle him myself.” Draco stated, watching her take Ron’s hand and lead him towards their group. “And there had better be a lot of booze.” 

 

“You need to be sloshed to be around her and her boyfriend, mate?” Theo asked quietly. 

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

* * *

  
  


She would have sat in the stands for their rugby practice at the end of the day, but she couldn’t bring herself to sit against the cold wind for something she wasn’t actually interested in. With a kiss on his cheek, she let Ron know she’d just wait in the library with her friends and that they could leave together afterwards. Not that she particularly wanted to have dinner with his family that night, but Mrs. Weasley wanted to have her over for dinner. 

 

Hermione curled up, tucking her legs beneath her, in a large chair in the library. She’d invited Daphne on a whim, hoping that Ginny wouldn’t be a bitch to her. It was lucky, the redhead had clearly moved on from her ex boyfriend and was eager to talk to the pretty blonde girl that plopped herself down beside her younger sister. 

 

Astoria. Not that Hermione had actually ever met the girl beyond a tutoring session the year before, and she hadn’t even been her tutor. Draco had been, helping the girl in Maths, which he swore he’d never do again. Professor Flitwick had failed to mention the important fact that the younger Greengrass was dyslexic, which ultimately led to Malfoy being a dick and yelling at her for not being able to pick up on the simple lessons. 

 

Hermione smiled at the memory where Astoria had shouted at him, clubbing him over the head with a leather bound journal that she’d snatched from her hand bag, and informed him that  _ you stupid twit, this is how reading is for me.  _ Hermione had quickly swept out of the classroom, rushing to the vending machines and grabbing a bag of the gummy snacks she’d seen Astoria with. 

 

It was the only thing she could think of on short notice and she’d tossed them to Draco after he’d been kicked from the classroom.  _ “Apologize to her and give her these. I think they’re her favorite.”  _ She’d told him, punching him in the shoulder when he looked at her blankly. 

 

Suffice to say, she’d accepted the apology, and gotten another tutor. She knew that she didn’t actually know Astoria, but could say that she’d like to. Anyone who was brave enough to club her less than compassionate friend over the head was a friend of hers. Perhaps not one of his, but she couldn’t bring herself to care really. 

 

Luna and Ginny had immediately turned their attention to her as soon as they were in the library. Varied questions of  _ are you okay, what can we do to help, do you suppose Draco’s father knows how to get rid of a body _ had enveloped her immediately. She’d burst into tears, laughing when there was a loud, “What the fuck happened now?” from Theo and she’d enveloped the two girls in a tight hug before they settled into seats in the library. 

 

Luna sat in Theo’s lap, much to the chagrin of Madam Pince, with a notebook in her lap. She’d compiled a list of things for what would undoubtedly turn out to be a ridiculous spectacle instead of a simple party. So far she’d written down different types of booze, which Theo promised his cousin would buy it for him, not big deal. Blaise was a few years older and as long as they invited him, he’d be happy to help them out. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, naming the essentials. Cups, napkins, yes finger foods would be best. She tuned most of it out, fidgeting with a frayed strand on her pants. “Mione,” he head snapped up at Theo’s voice. “Did you hear what Luna just said?” Her closest girlfriend was grinning like the cheshire cat, and that just couldn’t be a good sign. Hermione shook her head. 

 

“It’s going to be a costume party.” Luna repeated happily. Ginny chatted with Daphne about costumes, giggling with the suggestion that perhaps Daphne and Harry could wear a couples’ costume. 

 

“Whatever,” Hermione waved the news off. “I have my old costume from last year in my closet. I’m a witch every year anyway.” 

 

“Didn’t that get ripped last year?” Theo asked her. 

 

She groaned, knowing that he was right and now Luna would insist on helping her buy a new one. She truly didn’t want to find herself in a nurse’s costume that was the farthest thing from what a nurse would really wear. “I might be able to fix the rip.” Astoria offered with a small smile and a timid voice. “I have a sewing machine, and I usually make my own costume. You wouldn't have to buy a new one.” 

 

Hermione sighed in relief. “Yes, that would be perfect. Do you have the time thought? If you’re already making you own…” 

 

“Of course!” the girl beamed. 

 

“Hey,” Daphne interjected. “Hermione, would you mind stepping into the corridor with me? I’d like to speak to you about something.” her eyes flicked to the back of her sister’s head. “In private.” 

 

She nodded, slipping her feet back into her shoes and grabbing her jacket as she followed her past the bookcases and into the hallway. Daphne’s hair was shoulder length, several inches shorter than her younger sister’s, but still just as blonde. With pale green eyes that were striking, Hermione couldn’t help but compare hers to Harry’s. Her cheerful expression slipped as she let the door shut, and she didn’t say a word until she’d peered through the window to see that no one had followed them. 

 

“First of all, Tori would kill me in my sleep if she had any idea of what I was about to tell you. That being said, if you don’t agree, I’d appreciate it if you never let her find out about this at all.” she spoke lowly, her words slow and deliberate. One perfect eyebrow arched as she watched for Hermione’s reaction. 

 

Hermione cocked her head to the right, rolling her shoulders. “I don’t know her too well. It wouldn’t be a problem to hide something from her, but perhaps you should start from the beginning so I can understand.” 

 

Daphne laughed, nodding along to that. “She’s had a crush on Draco for a long time, Hermione.” 

 

Brown eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously?” she managed before chuckling to herself. “We’re talking about the same guy that made her cry last year? Not that he’s always like that, but he’s not exactly,” she paused, debating. “He’s not exactly pleasant. Kind of an arse actually.”

 

Daphne blew out a breath, her fringe shooting up. “Yes, well, try as I might I’m unable to convince her that he’s not going to notice her.” 

 

Hermione frowned. Two emotions clashed, compassion, and another that she didn’t name as she shoved it away. It wasn’t a very nice thing to have told Astoria, that the object of her affections wouldn’t notice her. “He’s been wrapped up in Parkinson, or was anyway. She’s only interested in one thing, as I’m sure you’re aware.” 

 

Daphne’s response was an indelicate snort that had Hermione laughing until she wiped her eyes. 

 

“Astoria is a wonderful person, so I’m not surprised that he didn’t notice. He went straight for the easy, on and off girlfriend.” 

 

“From what I hear they’re most definitely over now.” she mused, tapping Hermione’s nose with the tip of her finger. “I also heard that it was because of you.” Hermione flushed. 

 

“Yes, well that’s over. I’m sure she’s livid and while she blames me, she hasn’t gotten around to confronting me about it. Astoria, though?” Silence. “You want me to try to help, right? Give Draco a push towards her, see what happens?” 

 

Daphne nodded hesitantly. “He’s your best friend, so take no offense, but he doesn’t have the best record with girlfriends. She insists that I don’t need to baby her, but-,” 

 

“He won’t hurt her, not purposefully.” Hermione stated. “I know he’s left at least five girls crying, and that’s just the ones off the top of my head, but after what happened to me.” she cleared her throat awkwardly. “I think that he will be better.” 

 

“I’d thought so. He was,” Daphne bit her lip, choosing her next words carefully. “He was a sight to see when he pulled you out of the fountain.” 

 

Her heart hammered in her chest, thumping against her rib cage painfully as she recalled the moment. Peering up through the hair that had been whipped around her face from the struggle, watching pools of grey soften as she felt herself being cradled to himself. “I know.” she said quietly. “The night that,  _ that night _ I cried for him. Harry told him and I don’t think he will ever top trying to make it up to me for not being there.” 

 

“I’m glad. You deserve that friendship. I was frozen behind Harry when Cormac threw you into the fountain. I couldn’t do a damn thing but watch while he,-” 

 

“Stop.” Hermione commanded gently. “What could you have done, Daphne? He’s stronger than you. You might have injured yourself in the process. It was terrifying, but I never doubted that I would be fine. Fighting is the easy part.” she let the words linger between them, before continuing. “I’d love to help you. Draco hasn’t been himself. I think he deserves something nice, something as far away from Pug Faced Parkinson as possible.” 

 

Daphne snorted once more. “Right, well, when should we..?” 

 

“A Halloween party with ridiculous amounts of liquor seems like a good place. Start bringing her around more. Let them get used to each other and then I’ll strike.” Hermione clapped her hands together, rubbing them together with a mischievous grin. 

 

“You remind me of Luna right now.” Hermione bobbed her head, grinning at the compliment.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midnight update from where I am. I’m going to sleep now, but let me know what you think! If the next chapter takes a while, it’s literally fucking because I treated myself by getting my nails done and I CANNOT fucking type. Anywho, 1200 words into the next chapter, which will probably be long anyway, because I have a party to write.
> 
> PS cause I don't have friends in real life, I went to the aquarium for the first time yesterday and it was the best! I GOT TO PET A SHARK.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Thank you to MrBenzedrine, who beta’d this chapter and is working to beta every chapter I’ve already posted as well. And also from here on out. Turns out I made more than a few mistakes the last few months. Thank you so much for offering your skills. (side note that I fangirled and make awkward seal clapping noises when she offered.)
> 
>  
> 
> And thank you to Christina, for this story would not have continued without her overflowing support when I’m about to throw my laptop across the room.
> 
>  
> 
> The two of you are the best.

 

  
  
  
  
  


Pairing Astoria off with her friend might have been easier, had he taken the slightest interest in the pretty blonde a year below them. Except he didn’t, and Astoria didn’t seem all too hurt after Daphne made the suggestion that Draco could drive her home. He said that Hermione could just take his car and do it herself. 

 

It was exhausting. Ron sniggered each time Daphne came up with a new way to try to push them into one another, each attempt more convoluted than the last. Hermione was seconds from just throwing the pair of them in a cupboard to see if the chemistry was there. If they were just wasting their time, she’d rather cut her losses early. 

 

Astoria, she learned, could do more than sew. In fact, it was all Hermione could do to just sit on her bed while she worked at her desk, which they had moved sideways to give her more room. “I am so sorry,” she began again. 

 

“It’s fine, really. I forgot that I’d agreed to have you fix the rip too,” Hermione replied, resting her chin in her hands. “Thank you again.” She looked over the black fabric. Where there had been a long rip leading up the right side, Astoria had cut the dress to mid thigh, working to make the dress end in jagged lengths that would stand out against her legs. “Not to mention it looks better than anything I’d have bought.” 

 

“You’re too kind,” Astoria replied quietly, barely carrying over the sound of the machine. “I hope it’s not too short, though.” 

 

Hermione shrugged, picking up her phone from the mattress. “I have a pair of athletic shorts I could wear under the dress and no one would know.” Astoria didn’t reply. A small smile settled on her face while she hummed, nodding. 

 

All Hermione actually wanted to do was ask the girl if she still fancied Draco, to get it out in the open. Quick and easy. But watching her in solely in her element, she couldn’t bring herself to put her on the spot like that. 

 

_ Your friends don’t like me much, except for Harry.  _ She laughed at Ron’s message.  _ Mr. Malfoy keeps glaring at me. I think he’s going to threaten me again.  _

 

_ Ronald, don’t be dramatic. Lucius didn’t threaten you.  _

 

_ What do you mean?? I was there and I definitely remember getting the ‘if you want  your insides to remain inside, you won’t hurt her’ vibe.  _

 

_ But did he say any of that?  _ She rolled her eyes. It was true, Lucius was protective of his family, and he didn’t like Ron all too much. Neither did her father, but he hadn’t bothered to give her boyfriend the smallest chance. 

 

_ IT WAS IMPLIED.  _

 

Hermione snorted, laughing uncontrollably as she let phone bounce against her bed. 

 

“Is it your boyfriend?”

 

She nodded. 

 

“He makes you so happy,” Astoria sighed wistfully. 

 

“Apparently my father and Lucius are making him uncomfortable downstairs.” 

 

“I can picture that,” she said, dragging the dress out in front of her as she stood. “Everyone is probably just about ready - what do you think? There’s still time to run out to grab a last minute costume.” 

 

“If you don’t make it into a career in fashion, I will be flabbergasted,” Hermione gushed, taking the dress from her hands. “It looks fantastic. I can’t believe you made this.” 

 

“It was nothing, really.” She was smiling, beaming in appreciation. “My real question is whether you’d let me do your makeup as well.” 

 

Hermione bit her lip before nodding. “What did you have in mind?” 

 

“How do you feel about  _ not  _ being Hermione for the night?” A wicked grin crossed Astoria’s face and she looked nothing like the innocent girl Hermione had believed her to be. 

 

“I think,” Hermione drawled in excitement, “that you’re far more observant that you let on.” She crooked a finger, grabbing her bag and bounding into the bathroom. 

 

* * *

  
  


Astoria was aware of her surroundings, people and their behaviors, exits, all of it. It came along with having a paranoid father she’d always assumed, but Daphne was carefree, floating through life, unaware to the millions of details that were around her. There was the fact that her older sister wasn’t smart enough to play matchmaker without Astoria noticing. 

 

When Granger had started helping, that had thrown her for a twist. Whatever she expected, it hadn’t been that. She, along like everyone else, had thought that she was going to fall head over heels for her best friend since birth. Which she still believed, she just had the knowledge that it might not be easy. 

 

She’d also realized that for as brilliant as Granger was, she was oblivious to Malfoy’s feelings, and blinded by her belief that he must only see her as a sister. She’d more or less stated as much when Astoria lined her top eyelid with eyeliner (masked under the idea that she still fancied Draco Malfoy something rotten, of course). “Have you and Draco ever..?” She let the question linger, concealing her smirk when Hermione’s eyes shot open. “Sod it,” she muttered. She should have started this before she brought the liner out, or after it had dried.

 

“I’m sorry!” Hermione gasped, but Astoria focused on the recognition in her eyes. “He and I, we’ve never-” Hermione stuttered awkwardly, unaware of what she was giving away. “Draco would never,” she finally said. 

 

She wanted to laugh. If Hermione could see what she did, that Draco never stopped looking at her, that his hand twitched each time she stumbled...Often, she noted, Granger was horribly clumsy. The girl in front of her would end 

the relationship with the red headed Weasley, as painful as it might be. 

 

“What makes you say that?” Astoria frowned, completely honest. “You’re gorgeous, you know? Clever to boot.” It was hard not to grin when a pretty blush dusted Granger’s cheekbones. “Not to mention how well you keep up with him. Always have him on his toes, don’t you?” 

 

The other girl laughed. “I suppose. We’ve always been the best of friends. I’ve never thought of him romantically.” 

 

Granger gave away the truth in the subtle way her voice hardened on that last word. She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking for it, but there it was. If Astoria were to hazard a guess, she’d put money on the theory that Hermione hadn’t thought of him that way, but something had recently changed. 

 

“Oh.” Astoria drew her lip between her teeth, her lashes brushing against her skin as they gently closed. “Well, as I’m sure my sister told you, I fancy him.” Cue the awkward laugh and the way she appeared to be at a disadvantage. “I know you’ve tried to push us toward one another, but-,”

 

Hermione cut her off, her eyes widening happily. “He’s just being a prat. He doesn’t even notice what’s going on, honestly.” 

 

_ Not unless you’re involved. Of course, he wouldn’t notice how you’re trying to push him to another girl.  _ With a barely contained eye roll, Astoria nodded sadly, casting her gaze to the floor. She was worried a laugh might escape her any moment. Granger was sure to kill her once she knew the truth, but one could only watch these two go in circles, barely missing the other each time, for so long. 

 

“Maybe tonight?” 

 

Hermione nodded, and Astoria had her right where she wanted her. 

 

* * *

  
  


He’d been graced with a daughter who didn’t fight him at every turn in her adolescent life, but that was not to say Hermione took his advice in stride. In fact, he found it was easier to discuss the economy and politics with his seventeen year old daughter than to point out the things she was completely overlooking. 

 

“Frank, if you even hint at that, she will come undone. You know how she got when Jean mentioned it,” Lucius stated, peeking over the rim of his steaming cup of tea to see the group of teenagers in his living room. Hermione was still absent, upstairs with a girl he’d never seen before. 

 

Frank scoffed, waving his hand towards her friends. “Yes, well, if Jean were here, I’d hazard the guess that she could knock some sense into our daughter.” 

 

Lucius snorted, choking on a gulp of tea at the same time. “Just let them figure it out for themselves. They’re seventeen. Whatever we tell them to do, they’re going to do the exact opposite anyway.” The blond man shrugged, drumming his fingers against the table. 

 

“I’m sure they will, but how much will she go through before that? Not that I don’t think of Draco as my own child, but I can’t imagine her being hurt anymore than she already has.” 

 

Lucius arched one eyebrow. “Do you think Draco isn’t hurting everytime he sees this Weasley boy with Hermione, Frank? Don’t be so naive; Hermione isn’t the only child in danger of having their heart broken.” 

 

Silence. “In hindsight, I could have worded that better. I’m sorry,” Frank apologized quickly, but Lucius waved him off with a laugh. “It’s so bloody obvious anymore.” 

 

He nodded. “You’ve seen the way he looks at her?” A nod. “He slept in his bed for the first time during the last week.” Lucius continued, watching as Frank hesitated. “Come off it, don’t act like you didn’t know.” 

 

Hermione’s father huffed, conceding. “Of course, I knew. I was seventeen once as well.” A snort from the man in front of him.  “Not that I was the rebellious one. No, Hermione must have inherited that from Jean. Have you any idea why he stopped staying with her? She cries herself to sleep; Hermione had me sit beside her bed until she fell asleep last night.” 

 

“It’s worse than I thought.” Lucius sighed. “I don’t think he sleeps more than two or three hours a night. If I’m right, he’s waiting for her to see through him and just tell him to get his arse back over there.”

 

Frank shook his head. “Not a chance for that. She broke down and told me herself last night that her boyfriend found out about it and Draco told her he wouldn’t sleep over anymore.” 

 

“What would our wives say if they knew we’d known they’d been sharing the bed all along?” Lucius sucked in a laugh. “Narcissa would have had my head, you know. This would have never happened. That woman was as conniving as they come. Draco and Hermione would have realized what we’ve known this whole time.” 

 

“Jean would have been thrilled, which is completely unorthodox if you ask me. Bloody woman might have asked what condoms Draco preferred just so she could scare him off the thought of sex.” 

 

Lucius snorted and then laughed loudly, drawing curious eyes to him. “Gods, if only Narcissa was here. She would jump at the chance to tell Draco all about where babies come from.” His laughter died as he looked at his son across the room, the spitting image of himself. “She would have been phenomenal, you know.” 

 

Frank cleared his throat. “Narcissa was a great woman, and an even better friend.” 

 

Lucius smiled. 

 

“Luckily for me we had so much in common, like thinking our spouses were going to run away together.” Frank said dryly. Another snort. 

 

“I’d have murdered Jean within the week, if we even made it to the car. She was an utter pain in my arse, but I miss her more everyday.” 

 

“Out of curiosity, and also to lighten his mood, does Draco know about the time you did ask Jean on a date?” 

 

“No, I’ve never told him. I worried it might confuse him even more.” Lucius lifted a hand to his heart, whispering dramatically.  _ “What if my father’s failed relationships are a sign that I don’t love Hermione? What if this, what if that, oh no, what’s wrong with my hair?”  _ Frank spluttered, his face heating up. “You and I both know he was a superficial prat when he was just a bit younger.” 

 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your own son.” 

 

“I referred to him as ‘spawn’ until he was about four, thank you,” he returned, downing the last of his tea. “You should come over more often; it’s always a good time.” 

 

“Noted. I’ve tried to be home more, just so I’m there, but Hermione is finally putting herself back out there again. Speaking of, are you not terrified of her going to a party? You know full well what we used to get up to.” 

 

“Oh, I’m utterly horrified. That’s why Sirius is patrolling that neighborhood, and we are going to drive by a few times as well.” 

 

“Didn’t you say that we were going to get sloshed?” 

 

“Oh, we still are. Severus is driving.” Lucius grinned. “I think she’s coming,-” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Whatever he expected, it hadn’t been this. 

 

He’d been in the middle of a serious debate with Theo regarding Rugby players and who was actually the best. Weasley had sided with him, and they’d held a fragile alliance for forty five seconds before Astoria glided down the stairs, graceful in high heels and black dress, covered by a black cloak. Astoria wore vampire fangs, the stark white contrasting against the black she wore. She’d winked at him, showing a slight of her hand to point behind her, and he hadn’t understood. 

 

Until his brain fucking stopped. It was as if his thoughts had met a brick wall as his mouth fell open. His mouth went dry as he gazed at the top of the stairs, where he saw her coming down.  As if the sight of heels - why in the fuck hadn’t they looked so alluring all of the other times she’d worn them?- combined with fishnets beneath her costume. 

 

Luna, grinning of course, reached up and closed his mouth for him before Ron noticed how far gone he was.  

 

This was not Hermione, he denied eagerly. Not in this costume that hugged her curves snugly, except for the pretty, slight swell of her breasts where the fabric loosened. Not in a dress that fell mid thigh, her skin peeking out between slits and her fishnets. She smiled at him, and he just glared at the petite blonde who elbowed him in the ribs. 

 

“Aren’t her lips to die for, Malfoy?” Luna asked him coyly under her breath before bounding to her friend’s side. 

 

Fuck him, she was stunning, almost giving the illusion of inviting him with the way her lips, stained with a dark red, parted. Weasley was already to her, murmuring something in her ear, and she smiled, kissing his cheek. Still, he wasn’t prepared for him to walk toward him. “Can I use your car?” 

 

“Uh,” he started, catching the sight of his father nodding, mouthing something. “Yeah, that would be fine. Why?” 

 

She shrugged, and he realized her shoulders were bare as well, the straps against the tops of her arms instead. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Greengrass or kiss her. “I just realized I don’t even have a witch’s hat. The girls can go with me. I’ll be right back.”  


 

“Keys are on the side,” he told her, throwing himself down into a chair. “Don’t let Looney near the steering wheel, Granger!” He was rewarded with a light laugh.

 

“Wait, wait!” Mister Granger called out, holding a camera with a small smile. “I’ll be gone by the time you’re back, Hermione -- so,” he motioned towards Draco and she smiled over her shoulder, “it’s a tradition, love.” 

 

She sighed, hopping onto the couch and waiting for Draco to crouch in front of her. He rose to his feet, taking two strides and letting her climb onto his shoulders. Luna clapped in happiness. Theo smirked smugly at him as his hands grasped Hermione’s knees so she wouldn’t topple over. 

 

Weasley looked green. 

 

“Mister Granger, Mister Malfoy, I have a question. All of us were talking earlier and-,” 

 

“Looney, do not ask my father that,” Draco hissed while Hermione leaned forward curiously. 

 

“It’s just that, technically of course, Draco and Hermione have two dads.” The two men shared a look, eyebrows raised. “Have the two of you ever been asked if you fancied one another? You’ve never dated, Mister Malfoy.” 

 

Hermione shook with laughter, latching onto his hair so she wouldn’t fall. His own father’s bewildered expression, his mouth naturally falling open, did nothing to distract Draco from the way her nails felt when they scraped against his scalp. “Take the picture now!” Theo leaned over to press the button while her father struggled for a response. 

 

* * *

  
  


Theo’s house was more extravagant than the home he lived in. Which made it perfect for parties, though Hermione never stopped trying to tell them it was a bad idea. The house was still just two stories, but it was a far cry from his mother’s simple interior decorating. 

 

Missus Nott preferred the finer things in life, and all the lavish belongings her husband’s money could buy. Like the ivory vase that had been knocked from its pretty stand in the sitting room - Hermione had rushed to catch it. With a satisfied grin, she opened the china cabinet and locked it inside. Theo didn’t know why she bothered. Once his mother had bought the next bauble that caught her eye, she wouldn’t be bothered so long as she didn’t slice her toe of the shattered remains. 

 

Theo’s parents weren’t around much. His own father had stated more than once that they were hardly parents if they left their son so easily, gallivanting around the world while he was left at home.

 

Not that Draco minded. They still would have thrown an unsupervised party, filled with rambunctious teenagers, hormones, and booze. In the middle of the room, Wood had set up a table for beer pong, which hadn’t lasted long when Hermione had an idea.  _ She never knows when to quit.  _

 

Contrary to whatever Weasley believed, she wasn’t bad at sports, if beer pong could be considered one. She also chose to use hard liquor instead of watered down beer. Malfoy would have been on her team, but she’d chosen the rugby player at her side. And really? His sports uniform as a costume? 

 

It was her doing that Astoria stood at his side, twirling a curl between her fingers. “Are you any good at this?” she sneered. “I’d rather you not embarrass me.” 

 

He huffed. “You’re going to eat your words, Greengrass.” She was grinning by the end when Hermione had taken half of the shots and was left swaying on her feet. Weasley was already sitting cross legged on the floor. 

 

“You’re not so awful,” she told him. “You should keep an eye on her, though. Your friends are waiting for us across the room.” Without another word, she took Granger’s arm and slung it over her shoulder. 

 

“You’re just fucking full of surprises, aren’t you?” Hermione grumbled.

 

Sighing, Draco dragged her boyfriend across the room by his collar,  _ accidentally  _ smashing his shoulder against an end table in the process.   

 

By sheer luck, Weasley had said nothing about Hermione to him. Of course, he was too busy being with her to notice his clenched jaw anyway. He was always touching her, whether it was by wrapping an arm around her, or holding her hand, or fucking Hell, did he just kiss her against a wall? 

 

He kept a close eye on her, happy that she was enjoying herself, and also happy that she was only taking drinks from a bottle she’d uncapped herself. Hermione kept the bottle of vodka close to her, pouring shots into glasses that were technically double shots, but no one cared to correct her. 

 

“We should play a game,” Daphne squealed, wiggling around in Harry’s lap. His fingers clutching her waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on the skin where her shirt rode up. True to her ideas, he’d gone with the costume idea from  _ Grease _ . Though it was probably only because he wanted to see his girlfriend in leather pants so he could take them off of her later. 

 

“What do you have in mind?” Everyone laughed as Hermione spoke very carefully, articulating each word from where she sat across Weasley’s lap. 

 

“Spin the bottle and you have to go into the cupboard for privacy,” she said happily. “Could be fun.” 

 

“Sounds like a great idea,” Hermione chimed in, flashing Ron a smile, but it was the way her lip curled that had him worried. “Tori can go first. I’ll spin for you!” And Theo tossed her a beer bottle that he’d just finished. Hermione spun first, feigning surprise when it pointed to him. 

 

If there was a God, he must be laughing at him. Here he was, in love with the one person he’d considered off limits, his bloody best friend of all the girls in the world, and she was trying to match him up with a girl that literally spewed venom at him. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” he scoffed, grabbing Astoria by her hand and dragging her to the stupid cupboard. “In you go, Greengrass.” She stepped inside, flipping the switch and turning the light on. The second the door was shut, she was on him. 

 

Just not in the way he’d expected. “You have seven minutes to agree to my plan, or we can pretend it never happened,” she whispered, slipping her fangs out of her mouth. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Granger. You’re in love with her, or you’re falling in love with her. Either one; I don’t particularly care.” He started to argue, but she pushed him to the wall. “Stop lying about it, Malfoy. I see right through it.”

 

“What do you know about me?” he growled. “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s with her boyfriend on the other side of this door and she hasn’t fucking noticed me, so why don’t you go fuck yourself?” 

 

She snorted. “You’re both blind. I get that Granger is brilliant, but she doesn’t take her feelings for what they are. So, admit it. You’ll feel better, I promise.” 

 

He snarled at her, baring his teeth. “I love her,” he spat. “I love her even though it kills me, and I want nothing more than to show her how happy I would make her.” 

 

“Weasley is a nice guy, but I agree that he isn’t going to be her match. They’re conflicting already.” 

 

“Is there a point to this? Do you want Weasley to yourself?” 

 

She giggled loudly, overdoing it in case someone had their ear pressed to the door. “Quite the opposite really. I think you need help in giving her a push - a push that leads to you.” 

 

“No matter how desperate I am, I’m not going to sabotage her relationship,” Draco sneered, surprised she’d even hint at that. 

 

“No, she’ll do that all on her own,” Astoria clarified. “All this will really do is make her realize if she’s happy with Ron. If she is, then no harm, no foul. If she isn’t, she’ll be single, and you can make a move. Really, what do you plan to do? Watch her get married one day to someone who isn’t you? It’s ridiculous to say you’re in love with her if you won’t even fight for her.” 

 

“Watch it-” 

 

“I had a crush on you last year. I noticed you more after you were a complete dick to me,” she continued, smirking at the way his eyes widened. “Most of all, I noticed how you look at her. Even before you thought of her as more, and I can’t imagine you giving up so easily.” 

 

“What are you even suggesting?” he hissed, throwing his hands up finally. 

 

“Make her jealous, Malfoy. Make her see what’s right in front of her,” she replied gently. “It’s not because I want you, I swear.”

 

“Greengrass, you’ve literally just said how you fancied me last year. I wouldn’t want to hurt you as a result-”

 

She rolled her eyes, covering her heart. “As if, Malfoy. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

 

“You swear you don’t fancy me anymore?” 

 

She grinned as the door began to creak open, Hermione’s hand coming into view. “You want to know a secret?” Astoria whispered quickly. “I fancied you rotten until I realized I like girls.” 

 

A smile split across his face as he looked to the side, seeing the girl who kept haunting him smiling at the two of them. “Bloody fantastic,” he sighed more at Astoria’s revelation than in happiness that there was a stunning blonde in front of him. He snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her up to him and kissing her hard. 

 

Of course, there was the slightest pang of guilt when Hermione’s mask slipped as he reached to the doorknob and shut the door, still snogging Astoria, his fingers burying themselves in her hair.  


	17. Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, at 3:26 am to be precise, found Hermione in the Theo’s back garden. Everyone was already asleep, some of their classmates passed out in the living room floor. She’d stepped over Oliver Wood’s sleeping form as she’d tiptoed through the dining room. She’d also nearly slipped on Parkinson’s black hair, but she didn’t feel so horrible at that. The girl hadn’t woken up anyway. 

 

Following the party, which had died down sometime around one AM as the booze ran out, she’d found the bathroom and wiped the makeup off of her face. She’d rummaged through her bag, changing into joggers and a long sleeved shirt. Blades of grass brushed against the soles of her feet, the morning dew slick against her skin as she sat at the edge of the garden. 

 

Hermione focused on the sky overhead, challenging herself to count the millions of stars so maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have time to acknowledge the truth. It was painful for a moment, her chest seizing as hot tears threatened to well up. It would have been easier to blame her uneasy stomach on all of the booze she’d drank, much easier than admitting that something was terribly wrong. 

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wanted to be happy for her friend, wanted to be proud that she’d helped bring Draco together with a girl he clearly liked. The sharp, twisting pain in her stomach informed her that she was anything but, and really, how could she sleep beside Ron once the realization sunk into her heart? 

 

If there was a time to wish her mother was still alive, still living in a flat on her own in an upscale part of London, it was now. She needed to ask her. Hermione kept recalling the night that Draco had spoken so openly of her mother’s affair, of how he could understand wanting to be with the woman he loved any way he could, should he ever be put in the position. 

 

Hermione crossed her legs, running her fingers through her hair and scratching her scalp in frustration. Fucking Hell, Jean Granger wasn’t coming back, and she couldn’t answer her questions. Nor could her father, whom she couldn’t bare to even mention the subject. Yet, there was someone who could. Before she could stop herself, she fished her mobile from her pocket and dialed before she could talk herself out of it. 

 

“Hermione? Are you okay?” his words tumbled out, his voice hurried and anxious, clearly having woke straight away. “Are you there?” 

 

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I need to talk to you about Mum. You’re the only one who could possibly know her better than Dad.” There was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the line. “Please?” 

 

“Are you at Theodore’s still?” 

 

“I am. I’m the only one awake, I think,” she replied quietly, tugging on the grass. “I know it’s so late, and really I should have waited, but it hurts.” 

 

“Hurts? Hermione-” 

 

“I’m not physically injured,” she hurried to say, not knowing what to say at all really. “I just, it’s,” she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one had come outside, “It’s a boy problem, and I need my mum. And you’re the only one who knows what she would have told me.” She cried quietly, listening to his breathing and the heavy rustling in the background. 

 

“Have you been drinking?” he asked her calmly. “If you have, I’ll come to you.” 

 

“I have,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t trust myself to drive.”

 

“Good. Can you wait for me on the porch? I can be there in twenty minutes,” Lucius told her, waiting for her to agree before the line disconnected. 

 

Hermione rushed back into the house, finding the bathroom off the living room unlocked, with what was luckily only one of her classmates sleeping in the bathtub. She snorted at the sight of Dean, mouth wide open with one arm slung over the side of the tub. He had a blanket and a throw pillow tucked beneath his head. He didn’t move save for the rise and fall of his chest that calmed her instant nerves.  

 

She bent over, flipping her hair and bundling it into the nicest bun she could manage on top of her head. Plucking the hairband from her wrist, she wrapped it around her hair quickly, tucking the stray pieces into the band. Taking a second longer in front of the mirror, she realized there were streaks where she’d cried earlier. She grumbled under her breath, reaching for the faucet and scrubbing her face to erase the signs that she’d had any emotions at all. 

 

Hermione adjusted Dean’s blanket before leaving him in the bathroom alone again, grabbing it by the edge and actually covering him instead of the half arsed job he’d done. She flipped the light switch on her way out, walking through the living room. “Fuck,” she hissed as she stubbed her toe on the coffee table. At her feet, Lavender Brown stirred, and Hermione froze until the girl settled back into slumber once more. 

 

Snagging a pair of flip flops from the the wardrobe in the foyer, (they belonged to Theo’s mother), she slipped them on before exiting the house. The door shut with a soft click behind her, but once she was down the steps, she took a look back at the house to see if any of the lights had come on. Not that she couldn’t pass it off as she’d gotten sick, but if Draco were to wake up and check up on her... 

 

Well, she couldn’t say she wanted to see him right now. Not after the image of him snogging Astoria senseless was imprinted on her brain, and it seemed to cut her viciously. 

 

Headlights struck the lawn and the home in front of her, accompanied by the low sound of the engine. Hermione wiped her eyes, turning and rushing to slide into the passenger seat. Lucius took one look at her, and his jaw unclenched. “What happened?” his voice was soft. 

 

“I’m confused.” She choked on her words. “And my chest hurts.” 

 

“Take this,” he told her gently, handing her a bottle of water and ibuprofen. “We’re going to eat an early breakfast, and we can talk there. Is that alright?” 

 

She managed a nod, watching him open the bottle of pills once he saw her hands are too shaky. Lucius waited until she’d swallowed two, screwing the lid back onto her water bottle before resting his forearm on the back of her seat and backing out of the driveway. 

 

* * *

  
  


The twenty four hour restaurant was one she remembers well from her childhood. For as long as she could remember, the owner had been able to greet her a warm,  _ “Hermione! Have a seat, dear. So good to see you again.”  _ It was a staple in the fabric that brought her life together. She’d sat in the same booth nearly every time, but she still recalled the one table she’d sat at with her mother following the nasty divorce that was still fresh in her mind after four years. 

 

And her mum had been understanding in the fact that she could never sit in their regular table again, because that was just one of the many things she’d given up when she let go of her marriage, her family, and her shared home with her husband and daughter. 

 

And she knew that Lucius wasn’t going to let them sit at that table, because it would only hurt her more. The bell rang, loud and shrill as Lucius opened the door for her. The owner greeted her, but she barely hear his voice. With a wave, she looked away from the counter, her eyes finding the worn booth in the back left corner of the room. Hermione slid into one side while Lucius took the other. He handed her a menu before settling into an uncomfortable silence. 

 

“I’m not hungry,” she told him quietly. 

 

He peered over the menu, glasses slipping down his nose. “Amuse me and eat so I know at least there’s food in your stomach to help with all of that booze, Hermione.” 

 

She blushed and nodded, looking across the menu. “I’ll just get a sandwich.” He gave her a nod, waving for the waitress. She waited in silence as he ordered for the two of them. 

 

He wore dark pajama bottoms, a black t shirt, and she was fairly sure she’d seen that he was wearing slippers as well. He never looked casual, but she welcomed the change. Maybe it would make it easier to talk to him about the questions that were rattling around in her head. “I haven’t heard you cry like that since Jean passed away.” 

 

She gulped, watching him remove his glasses and set them on the white table. “Daphne, Harry’s girlfriend.” He nodded, ushering her to continue. “She told me last week that her sister fancied Draco.” His eyes widened a fraction, before narrowing on her as she rubbed her hands together under the table. “She asked for my help to maybe...” She made an odd motion with her hands, as if she were pushing two difficult things together. 

 

He snorted. 

 

“And I didn’t think it was going to work. He wouldn’t even look at her, much less think of going out with her, so tonight I-” She hiccuped. “Daphne gave the suggestion of playing Spin the Bottle, and it was really only so we could manage to get them in a room alone, or er, cupboard I suppose.”

 

“How did you manage to make sure it was the two of them?” 

 

She grinned. “Well, it was just a matter of knowing exactly where they were sitting. Plus this isn’t the first time. I caused Harry to be locked in a closet with Millicent Bulstrode two years ago.” Lucius laughed deeply, clasping his hands on the table in front of them. “Draco’s been...distant. Kind of weird actually, answering questions with questions, and I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to try to match him with someone.” 

 

“I take it didn’t go well, then? Is he angry with you for meddling?” 

 

“No,” she replied hesitantly. “I’d say he’s rather happy with the way he snogged her in front of me when I opened the door.” 

 

Lucius visibly winced. 

 

“Hermione,” he spoke gently. “Forgive me, but I’m not understanding. You said it was a boy problem? Does this not have anything to do with Ronald?” 

 

“Well,” she dragged out. “I have no choice but to come to the conclusion that I wasn’t jealous of him kissing Parkinson only because she tried to keep us apart. It’s not the only reason.” There was no hiding how his eyes shot open in disbelief. “It hurt to see them, Lucius. I don’t know what to think. I couldn’t sleep beside Ron when I feel...” 

 

“Hermione, it’s okay - calm down,” he rushed as she struggled to breathe. His eyes were wide. “What do you think?” 

 

She swallowed. “I don’t know what to think. I like Ron. He’s sweet and funny. He cares about me, and I feel so sick over the thought that I’m unable to return those feelings. Draco is my best friend, my first friend - how could I even think of him that way?” Hermione was nearly on the verge of tears once more. 

 

“You don’t have to feel guilty just because you had a thought, sweetheart. Have you cheated on Ronald?” She shook her head. “Then you’ve done nothing wrong. It might take some time, but you’ll need to figure out what’s best for you. You always owe that to yourself.” 

 

“What if what’s best for me right now isn’t what’s best for me later?” she asked. 

 

“Hermione, I think you will find as you get older, half of the things you wanted aren’t what you want anymore. If your desire right now is to be with Ronald Weasley, but that changes in two months, or even a year, you’ll still know that you tried. Wouldn’t you think it’s better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all?” 

 

“Mum said that all the time,” Hermione whispered. “I need to ask you something about her. I’m not sure if I really want to know the answer, but I have to ask.” He set down his cup, arching an eyebrow. “The affair.” 

 

The spoon he twirled between his fingers slipped and fell against the table with a clatter. “Hermione,” he warned her, showing in no uncertain terms that she was unlikely to like anything he could tell her. 

 

“I,” she paused, gathering her thoughts and promised to remain civil. “I was cruel to her because she cheated on my father. While I still don’t agree with her actions, I know that I was wrong.” 

 

He swallowed, waiting. 

 

“Draco brought up what I’m sure is the truth behind her affair, and really, I think you’re the only one who can give me those answers. Draco said he probably loved her, and that he chose to be with my mum the only way he could. Which was in secret.” 

 

“He’s rather intelligent when he wants to be,” Lucius said. “He’s also right.” 

 

She sucked in a breath. “The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Why wouldn’t she divorce Dad first? I can’t say I’m happy she fell in love with someone else,” 

 

“I’d like you to understand that your father knows everything I will tell you. He and I have discussed it years ago when her affair came to light.” Lucius’s eyes were hard as she moved her arms from the table, giving the waitress room to set their plates down. 

 

With a smile and question of whether they needed anything else, she was gone. 

 

“She didn’t simply fall in love with another man, Hermione. She’d loved him before she met your father.” His voice was tight. The truth was worse than anything she’d prepared herself for. “Jean would have told you, but you were so hurt. She never would have asked you to understand, or to forgive her.” 

 

“I won’t forgive her, but maybe I could understand. If she loved - can you tell me his name?” 

 

“Hermione, no,” he insisted, then he sighed. “You’ve met Sirius, but you never met his brother. Regulus Black was in our year, and well, we were children. Regulus loved Jean, but shortly after we left Hogwarts, he married another woman.” 

 

She blinked. Had she heard him wrong? “What? Why would he-” 

 

“Arranged marriage. The Black matriarch is old fashioned, and his hand was forced. So, he left Jean while they were in University. Neither of us saw him much after that. Reg kept in contact with Severus, but he never reached out to Jean or I. A few years passed, and she remained single. Claimed that she was happy to be independent, but she was afraid to be hurt like that.” 

 

“He should have never left her!” she snapped, her knee knocking against the underside of the table. 

 

“Your mother met your father, and they didn’t get along in the beginning. He was quite clear with his intentions, and with my help, won her over. Frank adored her, Hermione, and he knew part of her wouldn’t be his. Separating from someone does not mean you fall out of love.” He placed his hand over her fist. “Their marriage wasn’t as desired towards the end, but I suppose you already knew that.” 

 

“Neither of them were happy,” she admitted quietly. “Maybe they were falling out of love. I don’t know.” 

 

He shook his head. “I promise you that they loved each other. There’s a spark that teenage girls fuss over, the kind of passion that lights the way. It was gone, I think. They decided jointly to make the effort to fix their marriage for you.” 

 

“But it didn’t work.” 

 

“I was just as surprised when Regulus resurfaced in our lives. I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years. It was my hope that Jean wouldn’t lose herself to things that did not belong to her. Her indiscretions were a shock to me as well.” 

 

“I accused you of covering it up for her because the two of you were so close.” 

 

He nodded. “You had every right. I’d had my suspicions, and I had discussed them with Frank. He was sure of what was going on during the nights she missed dinner.” 

 

Her heart ached. Her father had known from the start, but he couldn’t have helped falling in love even if he’d tried. “So when I...” It was too difficult to voice. The images were no longer clear. The brain was a powerful organ, having the ability to repress the events you no longer wanted to remember. “When I found Regulus,” she said his name slowly, as if his name would cut her tongue, “with my mother, Dad already knew?” 

 

“Frank knew, and his anger was because you had seen them. Not because the affair became common knowledge.” 

 

“Christ,” she whispered. 

 

“People will enter your life, and they will leave. Sometimes they come back at the worst time, and you feel as if there is no other choice than to drop everything for them. She loved Frank, and she loved Regulus.” 

 

“After all of these fucking years.” she muttered angrily. “Was my father her last resort because she couldn’t have who she wanted?” 

 

“Regulus attempted to stop her wedding, and she threw him out on the spot.” Hermione deflated at his words. “Regulus never compared to your father. Because your father never left her side. Both of them valued their vows. As much as you will hate to hear it, and I hate to say it, but Frank would tell you the same. By the time the affair began, your mother and father were best friends. Not lovers.” 

 

“I don’t like any of these answers,” Hermione told him, pushing her plate to the side. “I think I understand her better now than I ever did. What advice do you think she’d have given me if she were here?” 

 

“I imagine it would have been whimsical, romantic, and would have made you angry.” he replied, picking up his tea. “Would you like to hear it?” Hermione nodded. “Jean would have told you to live in the now, and to do what made you happy. If she’d been able to bring it up, she would most certainly tell you that you should never wait for a man. And that if things are meant to be, they always come back to you.” Lucius smiled warmly. “She’d have told you to give him Hell too.” 

 

Her eyes were watering as she gave a small nod. A laugh bubbled up from within her chest. “I was worried about the future.” 

 

“Dangerous topic; steer clear of it. You have enough to deal with right now.” 

 

“Thank you for coming to get me.”  

 

“Of course. Eat, and I’ll take you back. Perhaps no one will notice you’ve been gone.” 

 

“Not likely. My phone has been vibrating this entire time. I’ll bet it’s Draco.” 

 

Lucius nodded. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An important note that I chose to put at the end so no one would worry that Hermione was cheating. The views on infidelity in this chapter are not my own. I will never approve of it, but it was important to the overall story. Hermione would have wanted to understand her mother’s actions.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, at one point I did actually have an outline, but I’m pretty sure most of it is void now. Lol.
> 
>  
> 
> That’s all. This update came rather quickly ( three days ), so my next might be at least a week. Suffering from a bit of writer’s block and I like to give a heads up.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

An early Tuesday morning found her sitting in her shower with her back against the wall while she let her face fall into her hands. The steady stream of water hitting the linoleum walls covered the sound of her crying. She knew her father would be sitting at their dining room table this early, at five. It would be so easy to make her way down the stairs, but she couldn’t find her voice. 

 

Her father had let her skip school the day before, but he’d been unable to hide the emotions that went across his face. Lucius had told him everything, sharing the secret that threatened to make her fall apart. Frank had hinted that she could talk to him if she’d like; he could be a silent wall for her to vent to, but she’d sealed herself in her room with all of her school books. 

 

A knock at the door startled her. Her foot connected with the bath rack, her body wash smashing her toe. “Damn it,” she muttered, casting an angry look at the door. “Dad?” 

 

“Not Dad,” came Draco’s voice. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. “Why weren’t you at school?” 

 

“Why are you at my house at five in the morning?” Hermione snapped. “Go away, I don’t want to talk to you.” She leaned forward, turning up the water pressure. “I didn’t reply yesterday for a reason.” 

 

“Don’t make me break this door down, Granger,” Draco threatened. 

 

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m naked.” 

 

“I know you’re lying, Hermione.” His voice turned gentle, softer at the reminder of one of the reasons she could be crying in her shower. 

 

Hermione looked down at her soaking clothes, the light blue sleep shorts and black tanktop clinging to her like a second skin. Her hair was matted by the water, unwashed since that dreadful fucking party, and her fingers had already wrinkled. “So I am, but I’m still not wearing a bra since you told me not to for the scar cream.” 

 

“You mean the scar cream I’m sure you haven’t been using?” Draco retorted. 

 

Hermione climbed out of the tub, leaving the icy water running since she was sure she’d be climbing back inside of her safe spot. Water poured onto the floor as she stomped across the small bathroom and flung the door open. The simple, white door slammed against the door stop, and she was met with her tousled-looking best friend. 

 

He looked like he hadn’t slept in the past twenty-four hours - like he’d just rolled out of bed since he’d gone without his contact lenses and had slipped his glasses on. It was the first time she realized how cute they were on him. She felt  her heart violently stutter at the sight of him. 

 

“Yeah?” she yelled, and he took a hasty step backwards. “Well forgive me if I can’t reach, and that I wouldn’t feel comfortable with my dad doing it, and that the one person I did feel comfortable with hasn’t been here!” Hermione finished screaming, her cheeks hollowing out as she panted. 

 

His lips parted in shock. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he told her, reaching out to stroke her arm. Draco’s face fell as she flinched away from him. “Hermione?” he asked slowly. 

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Hermione choked, her eyes welling with tears, and she wiped them away quickly. 

 

“Liar.” 

 

“So what, Draco? I don’t have to tell you everything. What do you want to know? That I’m confused and I have fucking boy problems? Just get out.” Hermione turned for the bathroom, pausing mid step as his hand gripped the door. “Please, just leave me alone.” 

 

“None of us heard from you yesterday, not even Weasley.” 

 

“I’m allowed to take a day for myself. I’ve completed our school work from yesterday. I have gone a full month without breaking down, Draco. Did you think it would never happen?” 

 

“Is this about McLaggen, then? Can you at least tell me that?” 

 

She bit her lip before shaking her head. “It’s not about that, not completely. I don’t want your help. I don’t want to see you at all. Please leave before I ask Dad to kick you out.” 

 

“I’ll sit with you, or on the other side of this door if you want.” Draco grasped at different ways to worm his way into staying. “You don’t have to talk to me, I just need to know that you’re okay.” 

 

“I’m not okay,” she hissed, glaring at him. “And I will not sacrifice the place where I feel safe so you can feel comfortable.” 

 

He faltered, eyes widening. “I make you uncomfortable?” The questions was empty, but he sounded as if there was something caught in his throat. “Hermione, I didn’t-” 

 

She caved at the way his eyes watered the tiniest, _ tiniest  _ bit and how destroyed he looked when he thought this was his fault. She supposed it was  _ technically _ , but how was he supposed to prevent her from crashing into him? “No,” she told him softly. “Sit on the bed, and I’ll be out in a minute. Will you go on a walk with me?” 

 

A nod. 

 

* * *

  
  


Draco left her with a quiet goodbye on her front porch, asking if he needed to wait for her. She hadn’t decided if she would go to school, even though she knew she should. So she’d told him to go on without her. 

 

Mister Granger hadn’t moved from his spot at the dining room table unless it was to refill his coffee cup. The lights were dimmed, although the bright screen of his laptop lit up his face. Leaning against the door frame, Hermione watched in silence as he scrolled through a web page. 

 

“What are you reading?” she called softly, her arms falling to her sides as she balled up the sleeves of her hoodie in her fists. “You look like you’re in a foul mood.” 

 

He chuckled, shutting the lid and setting it to the side. “Not at all. It turns out the internet isn’t so helpful when it comes to googling ways to help your teenage daughter.” 

 

She smiled, taking the spot across from him and crossing her legs in the chair. “Not surprising. I hear we are the most complicated of all of the ages.” She reached forward, grabbing a piece of toast from the plate he pushed forward. 

 

“How was your walk?” 

 

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you mean to ask me if I told Draco that I’ve somehow developed a school girl crush on him?” A wry smile twisted her lips and she continued in his silence, “No. In fact, we didn’t speak at all. He pushed me on the swings, and we visited the tree house in his backyard. Lucius was watching us, and I’m sure he already called you.” 

 

“That he did,” Frank agreed, tipping his cup to his mouth. “I’m not concerned about Draco, though. I’m worried about you. I know learning about your mother must have hurt.” 

 

“It’s like rubbing salt in my open wounds,” she grumbled. “I just-” She broke off, lacing her fingers together. “I understand, and I don’t understand. How could you have let it go on? How could you come home and know that she was with this,” she grimaced, “Regulus?” 

 

Tapping his index finger against the side of his mug, he contemplated. “It cut me deeply to know that he still had a place in his heart after all those years. Our marriage had been going down a road we knew it wouldn’t come back from. We went to counseling together, but I’ll spare you the details.” He took a deep breath. “We had decided on divorce long before Regulus ever stepped foot in her office.”

 

“You  _ what? _ ” Hermione shouted, her hands coming apart as she slammed them down on the old wooden table. “You never-” 

 

“We had also decided to wait to finalize it until we knew it wouldn’t have a negative impact on you. If you remember, you were being bullied at school then. It was a fight to get you out of bed most mornings, Hermione. We didn’t want the news of us to reset the progress you’d made.” 

 

Biting her lip, her eyes began to water. She remembered very vividly how Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had tormented her mercilessly. It had always been when Draco wasn’t around, and she’d summoned all the courage she’d had at thirteen to handle it on her own. Her assignments went missing. Her books turned up missing. She could recall how it had gone on until she’d been picked up and thrown into a trash can. And Draco had been directly around the corner. 

 

“Oh my God.” She breathed. “It was already over.” 

 

“If you’d like to deal in technicalities, it was an affair. Lucius didn’t know about this. It was a mutual decision to keep it to ourselves. However, I knew about Regulus, and you discovering them was never meant to happen. That’s why I was angry, not because Jean cheated on me. I loved her. I still love her. Hermione, I will always love your mother. She was my favorite part of life until we had you.” 

 

“All the things I told her...” Her lower lip trembled. 

 

He winced. “She understood.” 

 

“Mum should have told me!” she cried out. “Fucking hell, she could have told me. Or even you! How could you let me believe a lie? I thought she cheated, that she broke my dad’s heart.” 

 

“What would you have said if she had told you we were divorcing? If she’d told you that she was in love with Regulus? Hermione, you can’t even understand  _ now _ . How would you have reacted then?” 

 

She hesitated and then hung her head. “I’d rather not say.” 

 

“She wasn’t a bad person,” he said. 

 

“It’s probably time to go and see her,” Hermione whispered, picking at her nails. “I haven’t gone since her funeral. There’s so much I need to say.” 

 

“I could call off from work, and we could make the trip today if you’d like. Maybe you’d rather go with Draco? I know he hasn’t been to see Narcissa recently. Could make a trip out of it,” He suggested, watching her closely. 

 

“Are you encouraging me to skip school, Dad?” 

 

“Well. you’ve already skipped school once. Look, it’s been a really long month, and I think we all need a break at some point,” he joked and was rewarded with a smile. 

 

“I will think about asking Draco. Ron would go with me; could I borrow your car?” She watched him nod. 

 

“If that’s what you want.” Somehow she knew that was his way of advice: making her think harder if that was what she wanted, and she wished he’d said nothing at all. Knowing what she wanted was easy. Admitting it to herself was not. 

 

* * *

  
  


“When you told me to meet you in the closet by the library, this really wasn’t what I had in mind, Luna,” Theo prattled. She’d sent him a text while he had sat in Lockhart’s, and there had been a smirk on his face up until he’d realized Harry had gotten the same message. “Not that Harry is an ugly bloke, I’m just not-” 

 

“I wouldn’t mind watching that.” Luna blinked innocently.. “Get your mind out of the gutter for one bloody second, Theodore. I did  _ not  _ ask the two of you here so you could tag team me in the closet.” 

 

Harry choked on his own saliva. “If Daphne walked  by right now, she’d kill me.” 

 

Luna turned on him, wide eyed and suddenly angry. “If she has anything to do with what Draco and Astoria are doing, I will kill her first.” 

 

“Babe,” Theo cut in, tilting her face back to him. “Maybe you could start at the beginning so we can understand what you’re on about?” 

 

She sighed, crossing her arms. “I overheard Astoria and Draco earlier. She was telling him that she’d overheard from Lavender Brown that Hermione was about to dump Ron.” She paused, undoing her arms once more and twirling her fingers through her hair. “And then Astoria told Draco that if it was true, they wouldn’t have to keep up their fake relationship much longer.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Holy. Fuck.” He breathed. “Daphne definitely wouldn’t know. She can’t keep secrets.”

 

Theo, on the other hand, looked absolutely murderous. “I’ll fucking kill him. He did this to make her jealous.” 

 

“I’m aware,” Luna replied. “It bloody-well worked too, but now she’s heartbroken. Not to mention confused. Have you seen her today? She looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten.” 

 

“Have you talked to her?” Harry asked. “For all we know she’s going to get over it, Luna. And I don’t know. Daphne said Tori fancied Malfoy.” 

 

She shook her head. “No. I haven’t talked to her, but I just know. This wasn’t going to hurt her when we were just waiting for her to realize. We all thought it would just happen. Malfoy went too far. And no, Astoria is  _ gay _ . Draco mentioned that part when I overheard them.” 

 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Theo laughed, before swallowing at her glare. “What do you propose we do?” 

 

“As much as it will kill me to hurt her, she needs to find out,” Luna replied softly. “This is what I think we should do...” 

 

* * *

  
  


She wasn’t sleeping. Nor was she calling Ron like she’d promised herself that she would. On top of it all, Hermione didn’t ask her father to make an appointment with her physician, determined to find sleep that wasn’t induced by medication or Draco. It showed in the dark purple bags under her eyes that she fought to conceal. 

 

He was four houses down. Malfoy would have broken the unspoken promise and slept beside her if only she’d sleep peacefully. He’d tried earlier in the week, but he’d found the window locked. 

 

Seeing him blissfully happy with Astoria Greengrass didn’t make the ache in her chest dull. It did make her choice clear. As much as it hurt to see the wonderful pictures of Hogwart’s newest couple plastered over social media, she knew she wouldn’t allow herself to wallow in self pity. 

 

Hermione felt like she was slipping. In the hours she went without sleep, she’d studied under the light on her bedside table. She avoided her friends, delivering a hard blow to those closest to her. As if there were a heavy weight on her chest, she let all of her messages go unanswered. Except for Ron. 

 

Her boyfriend, though the title was growing to irritate her, tried to be there for her. He’d met her between classes, found alternate routes to their classes because Astoria and Draco always seemed to accidentally bump into them. She was sure that Ron had started to see the signs that this was not just resentment at her best friend spending his time elsewhere, that this was bitter jealousy. And it was escalating quickly. 

 

Hermione sat on the edge of what she preferred to call her fountain, the massive water fountain in front of Hogwarts, legs crossed while she carefully balanced herself on the ledge. The book in front of her was the newest in a series, a gift that she’d found in her locker previously that morning. There was no doubt that it was from Draco, but she pushed the thoughts from her mind and flicked through the pages. 

 

Ron sat at her side, a constant presence that she tried not to resent. He hadn’t done one thing wrong. In fact, it might have been easier if he did make a mistake. Perhaps accidentally flirt with Lavender Brown, who yes, Hermione had seen trying to catch his eye. Or maybe be too rude to her. Her hand was swallowed by his own, the soft pads of his fingers drifting back and forth across her skin. 

 

“Astoria asked if we would like to go on a double date with them,” he said quietly, his eyes closing as her head jerked up. “I told her it might be fun.” 

 

Hermione’s mouth opened and then closed once more as she rethought her words. “Fun? I’d think not. I don’t want to see the pair of them slobbering over each other. Maybe we could do something by ourselves?” 

 

_ Coward.  _ This was wrong, trying to get over her feelings by using him. “I might have already told her yes.” 

 

She deflated, smiling weakly. “Oh well, in that case, we will go. I’m sure we’ll manage to have a good time.” The grim set of his lips gave away his doubt. “What was her idea?” 

 

“She thought it would be nice to go see  _ Star Wars _ with all of us.” 

 

Hermione froze in the middle of turning her page. Surely Draco wouldn’t have agreed to break their tradition. 

 

“Wonderful,” she grumbled, dragging her gaze away from Ron. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Are you okay?” 

 

“Ron, I told you I’m fine the last three times you asked!” she snapped, throwing the black folder in her hand across the table. She was sure Madam Pince would come around the corner any second, shaking her finger at Hermione. “...I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

 

His hand gripped her shoulder. “It’s fine. Suppose I shouldn’t have tried to force you into talking to me.” Ron moved her homework to the side, grabbing the back of her chair and pulling her into his side. “When did you last get a full night’s sleep?” 

 

She shook her head, shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. The Hogwarts Alumni hoodie had belonged to her mother. “I don’t think I should answer that.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the silence to follow. 

 

“So when Malfoy was there last?” he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. “You can talk to me, ‘Mione. I can’t try to help if I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

 

Hermione scoffed. “Ron, there’s nothing you can do to help. You hate him, and he hates you. Just leave it alone.” 

 

“I hated him when I thought he was in love with you. Since we’re past that now, I’m sure I can manage civility.” The unspoken message of  _ he definitely never had feelings for you, so he’s not a threat to me now _ was delivered as if it was a slap across her face. 

 

“Ron, I don’t want to talk about it. Please? I have so much to catch up on, and this is just a waste of my time.” 

 

His arm slipped away from her shoulders and she leaned forward to gather the packet for Professor Snape. 

 

“You’re ahead in every single class. What could you possibly have to work on?” 

 

She groaned, rubbing her temples in frustration. He didn’t deserve her crabby attitude that had been brought on by unwarranted jealousy. “Yes, but I want high marks. This is my last year before I leave for university. I’m not going to get the marks I want by sitting around and watching films all year.” 

 

He muttered something under his breath. 

 

“If you’re going to gripe about me, could you at least have the decency to say it where I can hear you?” she grumbled without a trace of guilt. “I understand that you might not want me here if all I’m going to do is study, but please just tell me so I can leave.” 

 

“I don’t want you to leave!” It was a yell that sent her heart racing as her eyes widening. She barely flinched as her folders, the papers inside having been meticulously sorted, scattered across the floor beside their table. “You’ve been distant, Hermione. I’m trying to be as supportive as I can, but fuck, you’re not letting me in.” 

 

She swallowed, slowly bringing her legs over the side of the bed and slipping her feet into her trainers. “I’m going to go find Luna.” Hermione whispered, crouching to stack everything together. It didn’t matter if every paper was crumbled; she needed to leave. 

 

“I didn’t-,” 

 

“You didn’t mean to scare me, I know,” Hermione said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my mum. It’s not an excuse for my behavior, but I just want to be alone.” 

 

“Hermione,” he began. 

 

“Please,” she begged, not looking up to meet his eye. “I have so much on my mind, and-” 

 

“Tell me then,” he pleaded with her, grabbing her hands. “Luna said you wanted to go and see your mum. I could take you. Just let me help.” 

 

She hesitated, pulling her arm away from him. “I don’t want to go.” 

 

“Don’t want to go, or don’t want to go with me?” he countered. 

 

There was a stinging sensation behind her eyes that she had become all too familiar with. This was it, she thought. How could she lie to him when he hadn’t done anything wrong? Clenching her folder in her hand, she told him, “I don’t know. What would it mean if I wanted Draco to go?” 

 

“It makes sense that you would want him there as your best friend, but I don’t think that’s what you want anymore. I’m not angry.” He held up his hand, cutting her off. “You’ve been a raging bitch for a full week since you’ve seen Malfoy and his girlfriend. You’re jealous, Hermione. I know I’m not as smart as you, but don’t insult me by lying to me.” 

 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered, “I don’t know what to think or do. I’m so sorry I’ve put you through this.” 

 

He came up to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. Ron brushed hair from her forehead and kissed her softly. “If you ask me, the chance of you choosing me in the end was worth the risk.” He continued as she shook her head, crying softly into his chest. “What will you do?” 

 

Her shoulders fell. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “cry, maybe? Schedule an hour to myself to wallow before I have to get over this?” 

 

“It will work out,” He reassured her. “I don’t know about you, but I feel like shit.” He was grinning as she laughed, wiping her eyes. “Care to go with me to the Great Hall and grab ice cream?”  

* * *

 

 

Astoria sat on his bed, her legs crossed as they hung off the side. She watched patiently as the blond man in front of her paced back and forth. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Hermione and Weasley are no longer,” she told him, her eyes flicked towards the mirror on his dresser. While she was calm, he appeared to be on the verge of tearing his own hair out. 

 

“I don’t know what the fuck to do now,” he growled. “I can’t exactly tell her I’ve been waiting for her to realize he was no good for her. That I’ve been waiting for her. She’s going to murder me once she finds out this was a ploy.” 

 

“If she finds out,” Astoria said. “She doesn’t have to.” 

 

“I can’t lie to her,” Draco replied. “I couldn’t bring myself to look at her if I lied. Not to mention I know her, so I know it would make her wonder if I was going to leave her suddenly for another. That’s how this would look.”

 

She bit her lip. “I see. I suppose we didn’t really think this far ahead. Have you talked to her?” 

 

He shook his head, pulling his phone from his pocket once more and sighing. “I think she went somewhere with Weasley. Doesn’t make a lick of sense if you ask me since they broke up. Do you know why?” 

 

She shrugged. “It’s not like she would talk to me after the show I’ve put on this week.” He groaned in response. “My only guess is that it was a mutual decision. He’s not upset.” 

 

“How the fuck did they split amicably? Weasley is-” 

 

“Perhaps he cared about her wellbeing enough to realize a relationship was hurting her,” Astoria cut him off pointedly. “Keep in mind the only reason you dislike Ron is because he was with the one you love.” 

 

“He’s a tosser.” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “He is not, and you know it. You’re just a jealous brat. He cared about her. Instead of wearing down the carpet, why not call her? I’m sure she’s not busy.” She stood, slipping her feet back into her shoes. “Mum will be here any minute to pick me up, but think about what I’ve said. If something happens, just say we broke up. Be sure to let me know if you’ve decided to dump me.” 

 

He smirked. “I’ll be sure to send you condolences card given the fact that you’ve already had the best you can get.” 

 

Her laugh reminded him of windchimes. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Malfoy. The best I will have will have different...equipment.” 

 

He snorted. “When do you think you’ll tell your parents?” Draco asked her. 

 

“Whenever I’m ready, I suppose. You’re the first one I’ve ever told, which by the way, you can tell Granger if you need to. Just, ask her to keep it to herself, yeah?” 

 

“She’d understand.” He nodded, pulling his phone out once more when his bedroom door had shut. Sighing to himself, he called Hermione before he could stop himself. The line connected on the first ring. And he froze at the sound of her voice. 

 

“Draco?” 

 

“Granger.” He winced at his awful start. “Do you have any plans tonight?” 

 

He heard her whisper away from the phone, “Do I ask him?” followed by someone agreeing. “I, uh, I was going to use Dad’s car to visit my mother. Do you have any plans?” 

 

“God, no. It’s just a boring Friday night here.”

 

“Would you like to come with me? I was going to ask you since you haven’t been to see Narcissa in months, but I thought Astoria might not like that.” Hermione was rambling, a fact that brought a smile to his face. 

 

“No, actually we broke up tonight, so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind spending time with me,” he told her. Only half of it had been a lie. It was a bad idea. It could be a colossal fucking mistake. It could lead to a fallout.

 

And it would. 

 

“Really?” she asked him eagerly. “You’re sure you want to go with me? It will be awfully depressing if you’re already upset.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m with you, Granger, so I’m not upset. I’m all yours.” 

  
  
  


 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I am sorry for taking so long, but this chapter was a bitch to fight with. If you follow this you will be happy to know that the next chapter is already written. Surprise I’m actually on top of my shit for once.
> 
>  
> 
> Sadly, we are heading towards the end and my tentative goal is to complete by June 14th so this story will have been written in an even four months. Which is insaaaaaane.
> 
>  
> 
> So many thank yous to Christina for reminding me how much I’ve done and that yes, I CAN finish this.
> 
>  
> 
> And Mr. Benzedrine who pointed out some parts where Luna could be improved this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m gonna sleep now.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Waving goodbye to her father, who wore a goofy grin on his face, she nearly stumbled into a coat rack beside their front door. At the last second, she’d ripped her old tshirt over her head and had dug through her wardrobe until she found an olive green tshirt with three quarter sleeves. She knew Draco liked it; he’d pointed it out to her before. She’d kept her fleece leggings, deciding they were too comfy to part with and the tshirt hung low enough to make her feel less exposed. 

 

She bit her tongue, wanting to correct her father’s easy reaction. He should have been upset that she’d even asked to make the the hour long trip out of the way to visit Narcissa’s grave. If the situation had been different - if Cormac McLaggen had never hurt her, if there weren’t so many realizations within a week - he probably wouldn’t have let her go. 

 

Yet he kissed her on her forehead and let her know that he trusted her to make the best choices for herself. She wanted to question what he believed was going to happen, but the somber look about him had stopped her. “Let me know when you are on your way back. I know you don’t have school tomorrow, but I shouldn’t even be letting you go.” 

 

Hermione froze in place on the porch, slipping the long strap of her handbag over her head. “Should I stay?” 

 

He shook his head. “One night without me being overbearing. I want you home and in bed by the time I wake up.” 

 

She nodded, waving goodbye once more and rushing down the steps. Draco had already parked in her driveway, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as she slid into the passenger seat. “He’ll stand there until you drive away. I’m surprised he was able to loosen up long enough for me to go out alone.” 

 

“You’re not alone.” 

 

“I would have been. I don’t want to say what I need to in front of him. Regardless of how he’s accepted it, it must hurt,” Hermione told him. He rested an arm behind her seat, casting a look over his shoulder. “I have so much to tell you.”

 

Draco reached across the car after switching gears, grabbing her seatbelt and fastening it for her. His hand brushed against her collarbone lightly. “It’s been a week since you let me talk to you,” he commented easily. 

 

“I had...” she paused. “I learned a lot about my mum, and if I can be honest, I just had a really bad week. I’m so relieved it’s over.” Hermione reached up to tie her hair, pulling her hair tie from her wrist. “My parents lied to me when I found out about her affair.” 

 

“Lied how?” 

 

“They were getting a divorce.” The head rest was soft against the back of her head; she reached for the radio, turning it off. “Do you remember when Goyle and Crabbe were bullying me?” 

 

“Hard to forget.” 

 

“They had decided even then.” She twisted in her seat, tucking one leg under her. Draco’s eyes widened. “Dad says they didn't tell me because they didn’t want me to start avoiding school again.” 

 

“Fuck, Hermione, are you okay?” One hand came off the steering wheel, grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “I know you’re already blaming yourself for the things you said, but you can’t. It’s not your fault.” 

 

His skin was soft against hers. Brushing a thumb across the side of his hand, she continued. “The night of the Halloween party, for reasons I can’t tell you, I was crying outside. I called your dad. All I wanted was my mum, and he was the only one that I thought could answer my questions about her.” 

 

“I had no idea you left.” 

 

Her eyes dropped down to their joined hands, and a tiny hope bloomed in her heart that he wouldn’t let go. It felt nice. Well, she also thought that it set her nerves on fire. “Lucius brought me back afterwards. I learned that his name was Regulus Black; he went to Hogwarts with your father, my mother, and Snape. She’d loved Regulus then, and it was assumed that they would be the ones to marry. 

 

“Regulus’s parents were very traditional, and had arranged a marriage. He broke my mother’s heart to please his parents. Years go by, and she meets my dad. They eventually marry. The only fact worth mentioning here is that this Regulus did show up to stop her wedding, and she threw him out.” 

 

“What a bastard. Did he divorce his wife?” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “No one told me, but you can find almost anything on the internet now. One google search told me that she died in a car accident. I didn’t want to ask my Dad. Until earlier this week, I thought it would hurt him more, but he had already accepted the end of their relationship before her ‘affair’ ever started.” 

 

He chuckled at her air quotations, and then clasped his hand in hers once more. “How do you feel about learning about this?” 

 

She sighed. “I was confused at first. Everything I thought I knew was what made me treat her so awful, and it turned out to be a massive lie. And then, it made me think of what I would do if it had been me, but I still don’t have an answer for that. I’m still angry. I realized that staying with someone for their happiness or the happiness of others isn’t worth in in the end.” 

 

“Is that why you and Weasley broke up this week then?” he blurted out, his other hand tightening on the wheel. 

 

Hermione wouldn’t meet his stare. “Not exactly. Partly.” She bit her lip, peeking up at him. She was beginning to think that she wanted his hair to be this disheveled permanently, and that she wanted to be one to run his fingers through it. “I realized it was already at a dead end, and there was no point. Really though, Ron is the one who ended things. I didn’t have the heart to admit it. Pull over here; I want a drink.” 

 

Draco signaled, waiting for cars to pass, and then he drove to one of the pumps. Unclasping the fasten on his belt, he told her, “Stay here. I’ll get it for you. Have you eaten?” 

 

“Oh, no you don’t have to,” she started, reaching into the floorboard to give him her wallet. “And take this--” 

 

He sighed, taking her wallet from her before tossing it over his shoulder into the back seat. “Not a chance, Granger.” He’d leaned closer to her, watching the way her pale pink lips parted and her breathing slowed. If he were to guess, he’d assume her heart was pounding in her chest. Draco smirked. At least he had the same effect on her. “Don’t you know me at all?” 

 

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try,” she grumbled, pouting without realizing. “I do have money, and I could take care of myself.” 

 

“I have never doubted your ability to take care of yourself beyond throwing a punch.” He snorted. “Truth is, I like to take care of you. So are you arguing for the sake of it, or will you let me?” 

 

It was subtle, the way her soft brown eyes widened. “Will I let you take care of me?” she asked quietly, tilting her head to the side. He nodded. “Sometimes.” 

He didn’t say a word to her - just left her with a full blown smile as he got out of the car. Hermione slumped against her seat, placing her palm over her heart. It was beating erratically, and while anatomically impossible, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it burst from her chest. She hadn’t imagined anything. 

 

When he’d asked her why her relationship had suddenly ended, Hermione had almost blurted it out, declaring that maybe the rumors were true ,and it had only been a matter of time before she realized that it was him. She wanted to tell him it was always him, from friend to...well, she didn’t know yet. 

 

It was too early for her to claim she had up and fallen in love with her best friend. Yet, she ticked off the things she loved about him. It didn’t hurt anything that he was attractive - the most attractive boy in their year to her. He was rugged on the outside, but she knew him better than that. She’d seen the soft side that only she got to see, the way he’d cuddle her on the couch and watch trashy reality TV with her. Or how really, he was a nerd when it came to some things, and she was pleasantly reminded of a memory where she asked what it meant that ‘Han shot first’. 

 

And he had realized she’d never seen  _ Star Wars, _ and it had begun her favorite tradition to date. 

 

If she could be vain for a moment, she thought of the way he looked after a rugby match, or a practice, and how his uniform clung to him. She’d seen him without a ttshirt, had been forced to admit how defined his chest was, had nearly stuttered when he’d stepped out of her shower. 

 

It was more than the way she physically responded to him. The vivid memory of him storming into her hospital room, the fight that followed and how she’d still craved his presence. Bringing her knees to her chest, she could close her eyes and see all the nights he’d laid beside her, his arm curled around her back when she couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

 

As Draco walked out of the convenience store, shuffling both drinks and snacks into one arm, he offered his other arm to an elderly woman who was attempting to make her way off of the curb. Her gray hair was tied neatly into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wobbled as she latched onto his arm. 

 

Hermione laughed lightly to herself, watching the older woman fawn over her friend. He helped her all the way to her car at the pump, and Hermione could hear through the glass as he offered to pump for her, arguing with her when she said it wasn’t necessary. Before she could think about it, Hermione reached for the door handle, rushing around the front of the car. She took the purchases from his hands, smiling brightly. 

 

“You can hardly help her if your hands are full, Draco,” she told him. 

 

“Aren’t you a pretty one?” The elder cooed. There were lines from laughter by her eyes Hermione noticed as she stepped towards her. The woman, deciding she wanted a better look at Hermione, peered up at her. 

 

“Isn’t she?” Draco voiced, a silly smile spreading across his face. “Funny, she never believes me when I tell her.” 

 

“Hm, perhaps you’re not doing your job correctly, then.” 

 

Hermione laughed loudly, waving and making her way back to the car quickly as to hide her blush. 

 

Yes, everything had been right in front of her for a long time, just waiting for her to realize. 

 

* * *

  
  


The drive to where the Malfoys had buried Narcissa nearly eighteen years ago was an hour out of the way - an hour she was happy to have spent singing along to the radio. Draco, as good as he was at sports, couldn’t hold a tune, nor could he accept that fact that he shouldn’t try to either. 

 

The two of them quieted down as he took the exit road to the cemetery, and he reached for her hand quietly. Giving it a small squeeze, she asked, “If you could tell your mum anything, what would it be?” 

 

His eyes darkened considerably as he parked near her plot and leaned back in his seat. “Hell if I know. I have questions for her, advice I would have asked for. I think,” he paused. “I think I would have asked her if she was proud of me. What about you?” 

 

“As you know, I have a million questions for her, but if I could only tell her one thing, I would tell her I wasn’t angry. I’d mention that I understood why it was still Regulus, and that I know now that I had to be older to swallow the truth.” 

 

He nodded. “A lot has changed for you, hasn’t it?” 

 

“You have no idea.” She snorted, unbuckling her seat belt and stepping out of the car. “I’ll wait here while you talk to her,” Hermione told him softly, sitting on the hood of the car carefully. 

 

“Come with me.” Draco came to stand in front of her, his hand resting on her knee. “I don’t want to go alone, if that’s alright with you.” 

 

“Isn’t there anything you’d like to tell her in private?” she asked. “Go on, tell her. I’ll be right here, and then I’ll come.” 

 

He sighed. “Okay, but later, there’s something I’d like to tell your mother.” 

 

“Maybe you should tell me that first.” 

 

She could have choked him when he smirked.    
  
  


* * *

  
  


Draco walked down the sharp decline with his hands shoved into his pockets. Her tombstone was made of smooth granite, and he sat in front of it, tracing the outline of  _ Malfoy  _ with his index finger. “This trip wasn’t planned, but I know I should have come sooner. I’m sure you would tell me some nonsense about how I don’t have to be here to talk to you, but - I’m avoiding what I want to say.” 

 

He crossed his legs, looking over his shoulder to glance at Hermione. “I don’t know where to begin, but I now see what Dad has always seen, what everyone has been telling us for as long as I can remember. She’s  _ everything.  _ Granger has been my best friend since we were in nappies. At the beginning of the term, there was another boy in our year. His name is McLaggen, but I’d prefer to just refer to him as ‘that prick’. He assaulted Hermione, would have raped her, and the world felt like it stopped when I got that call. 

 

“I know it’s cliche, no matter which way I look at it, and it doesn’t change a sodding thing. I thought I was being protective when this Weasel fucker started taking an interest, but then she felt the same way, and it didn’t take long before I knew. I think I’ve screwed everything up. Once she realizes I’ve lied to her by attempting to make her jealous, I’m not sure what will happen.” 

 

It had crossed his mind that he should just tell her and be done with it, but the thought that she might turn away from him... 

 

“I know that you can’t tell me anything now to make this better, but at least I’ve gotten it off my chest. - Granger!” he called, crooking a finger and motioning for her to come over. 

 

She ran down the hill, nearly falling, and his laugh echoed against the silent graveyard. “That was really quick,” Hermione panted, bracing her hand on his shoulder and sitting beside him. 

 

He gave her a wry smile. “Well, it’s a one way conversation, Granger.” 

 

She stuttered, embarrassed, but he slung an arm around her shoulders. 

 

“Dad is doing well,” Draco told his mother. “I think the two of us keep him so busy he will never have time to be truly sad.” 

 

“ _ You  _ keep him busy, Malfoy. You’re the rebellious one.” 

 

“As if! Miss Sneaks-Out-Her-Window.” 

 

“Mister Told-Lucius-He-Was-Working-On-A-Project-When-He-Was-Really-Passed-Out-In-A-Field- From-Too-Much-Vodka,” She prattled, elbowing him in the ribs. “Imagine the peace and quiet he will have once we leave for university.” 

 

“Leave?” he asked her, his eyebrows coming together. “You’ve always said you’d live at home while going to university.” 

 

She shrugged, admitting, “I think I want to be on my own now. No, I don’t know when I changed my mind, plus we still have a semester until I decide.” She didn’t comment on the somber look on his face, but she did speak once more. “Missus Malfoy, your son grew up to be a great man. He won’t tell you. God forbid he ever says anything nice about himself. You’d be proud of him.” 

 

“You’re going to make me cry,” he teased. Draco pushed her bangs out of her face, tilting her head up. “What’s wrong? Why are  _ you  _ crying?” 

 

She laughed nervously. “I’m just thinking.” Hermione left it at that, laying her head on his shoulder while he told his mother about their latest rugby season. 

 

* * *

  
  


Jean Granger had been laid to rest on a humid day that was only twenty minutes for her childhood home, and Hermione had not gone to visit once since the day of the funeral. She’d claimed it to be for several reasons. It was too difficult to mourn the woman that she had told to die. It wasn’t right for her to miss a woman that she’d nothing but scorned. She’d told herself that her guilt was her own cross to bear, and there was no amount of groveling that could fill the hole that had been left. 

 

It wasn’t a relief to learn that not all was what it seemed. It had led to more confusion. Her mother was not the cheating woman she’d believed which, for a second, had been good news. Then the truth sank in, that in the world of marriage she had loved her father, but it wasn’t the type of love that lasted for the rest of their lives. 

 

Knowing that her mother had given that love to someone other than her father left a bitter taste in her mouth. She realized that she could have slipped herself into the same position, trying to rid herself of these emotions for Draco by using Ron, who would have been convenient, and it made her sick. 

 

There were several things about her mother that she imagined she’d tell Draco eventually, but for the moment, they would remain with her. Telling him why she understood would be difficult. She would have to admit that she’d up and started seeing him as someone other than her best friend, someone that she’d wanted to snog until they were breathless after she’d witnessed him walk that elderly woman to her car. 

 

It was harder to tell the truth than it was to lie. 

 

Hermione decided that another difficult moment for this week was to not creep closer to Draco to listen to the things he told her mother. 

 

Having resumed her spot on the hood of his car, she chewed on her lip anxiously. It didn’t take long for him to make his way back to her. “Draco,” Hermione said quietly, barely audible over the wind. “Can you wait here for a while? It’s the first time-” 

 

He was already nodding. “I’ll wait as long as you want. I’ll be in the car if you need anything, making no noise and pretending I don’t exist.” 

 

Hermione snorted, hopping off of the hood and squeezing his shoulder as she passed. “I doubt I’ll be long.” 

 

The wind was cold, whipping around her and tangling her pony tailas she walked down the path. The grass, stiff from the coming winter, crunched beneath her trainers as she made her way to the tombstone that was still too painful to look at. Crafted suddenly and having not been ready in time for the funeral, she’d only seen it in a photograph. 

 

Hermione kneeled in front of it, her legs wobbling as her knees knocked together. “Hi,” she murmured, shifting from the uncomfortable kneeling position to sitting with her back against the headstone. “I know that it’s probably disrespectful to face away from you, but I don’t think I can look at that picture right now.

 

“And I know that for all I know, there’s nothing after this. Which would mean you can’t hear me, but I’m going to choose to believe that you can.” The picture, glossy over the head of the grave, sat between her shoulder blades. It was an old photograph. Hermione must have been between three and four, sitting in her mother’s lap on a swing set. Seeing it cut her deeply. 

 

“I know about Regulus, Dad, and you. I understand why it was always him, but if I’m honest, I’m only able to understand because of the bastard waiting for me in the car. But this isn’t about my love life, or lack thereof. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for all the horrible things I told you. It’s impossible to imagine what it must have taken you to listen to insults without defending yourself.

 

“I wish you were here. You should be. I need to tell you how sorry I am ,and that I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I really just want a hug and for you to tell me what to do. There’s a lot of things I wish I could have done, but I’ll work on who you believed I’d grow to be. Beginning with being brave.” Hermione rubbed her face, brushing tears away. “You know, I  _ really  _ wish you hadn’t been so brave.” 

 

She brushed her fingers against the icy surface of Jean Granger’s memorial, biting her lip. She took a look towards the car, smiling grimly as Draco had leaned his seat back. Hermione peeked back behind her, as if the tiny monument could lend her any bravery. “Now or never. Now or never...” 

 

He didn’t open his eyes as she slid back into the warmth of his car. It took two minutes - she’d watched the digital clock on the dash - for her to stop crying. Flipping the visor down and the mirror open, she looked herself over once. It was dark, the moon being the only source of light. He wouldn’t notice how ragged she looked. 

 

“I want to ask you something,” she told him. 

 

“Okay,” he replied, but his eyes didn’t open.

 

“Why did you and Astoria break up?” Hermione’s voice was steady, slightly low, but she had managed to not stutter. 

 

“Why did you and Weasley break up?” Draco countered, cracking one eye open and looking her over. “It’s been nearly a week, and no one knows. Just all of a sudden the pair of you came into the Great Hall and dropped that news.” 

 

Her cheeks were burning. “I have my own reasons. Don’t answer my question with a question. That isn’t fair.” 

 

“Tell me your reasons,” he argued, a faint smirk crossing his lips, “and I’ll tell you mine.” 

 

“I still asked you first,  _ prick _ .” 

 

Draco sighed, adjusting how he laid and crossing his arms behind his head. “She wasn’t right for me, and I knew it. Your go. Out with it, Granger.” 

 

She deliberated for a moment, two maybe, before she couldn’t get the words out. And really, what had she thought she was going to say? “Draco?” Hermione whispered, placing her hand on the center console and leaning across. His eyes were still closed; she still had time to back away from him if she wanted. 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“ _ Goddammit _ ,” Hermione hissed and grabbed either side of his jacket, hauling him forward ,and she had the split second to smile at his surprise before her lips pressed against his. 

 

Draco was moving with her, his arms locking around her waist and he lifted her over the console and sat her in his lap. He groaned, a low, husky noise as she shifted to straddle his waist. Hermione brought her hands up, one sliding against his chest while she let her fingers tangle in his hair. 

 

She was shy in her movements, tentatively using her tongue, even though she’d imagined snogging him on the side of the highway not even two hours earlier. “Draco,” she whispered. 

 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he rasped, clutching her by the waist. His arms, though he left enough room for her to pull back if she chose, tightened around her hips as she whimpered. He’d pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, nipping gently there before he could reign himself in. 

 

“Why?” She was breathless against him. Hermione took in the sight of him so unkept, knowing that his lips were red because of  _ her _ , that his hair looked so deliciously fucked because of  _ her.  _

 

“The problem with kissing you...” he began, one hand moving to massage the back of her neck. Her head leaned back, and he was certain that there was nothing more stunning than the sight of her coming undone before him by gentle touches. “...is that I knew if I ever got the chance, I’d never stop.” 

 

“I don’t think you should,” she whispered, pressing herself against him once more. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that I planned to update this soon, buuuuut this finally came easier to me so here we are.
> 
>  
> 
> Aren’t they fucking precious? I have been waiting three months to make him say that. <3
> 
> I also uploaded from my phone because I am an impatient bitch so if there are any errors that’s why. And I will fix them if so! 
> 
> Thank you Christina for always reminding me that it’s wardrobe and not closet. Lol. And thank you to MrBenzedrine who literally edited this in three hours and being the only reason it’s being posted so soon.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been a while. Work's hell, Christina has been sick. So if you see anything that hasn't been britpicked, it's because I'm nothing without her. Lol. If there is anything to be edited plot wise, I will come back to it, but I think we're good. Literally all of the beta love to MrBenzedrine who edited this as soon as she got it today! She's amazing. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm going to let you all in on the secret that after you finish this chapter, there's likely only going to be ONE chapter left and then a time skip for the epilogue. It's really hard to accept this will end soon, which is why I drag my feet on writing it. Let me know what you think, or if there's anything you'd like to see. (There's a oneshot with Lucius, Frank and Severus driving around on the night of the Halloween party!)

His mobile rang the moment Hermione and Draco were out of his driveway, and he answered without looking at the caller. “Lucius,” he greeted, shutting his front door behind him. “I’m surprised you weren’t over here to see her walk out. She nearly tripped over her own two feet.” 

 

A low laugh came from the other end of the line. “I believe it. As much as I live for embarrassing my goddaughter, I had some work to do. I learned the boy, Cormac McLaggen, was enrolled in Durmstrang. Severus rang earlier to give me the news.” 

 

“Likely for the best that the animal attends an all male school,” Frank said, his cheerful mood dissipating. “I’d rather see him in a prison.” 

 

“As would I,” Lucius agreed. “His parents hired an expensive defense. You’ve heard of the Lestranges? My sister-in-law married one of their sons?” 

 

“I’ve had the displeasure of meeting Bella, yes,” he replied. “The lot of them are scum.” 

 

“Yes, they defended Tom Riddle Jr in court. Jean faced off with them more than once. The point is: they lost. McLaggen will not be attending Hogwarts ever again, nor will he set one foot on that campus. Hermione was granted a restraining order. He cannot come within a hundred yards of her.” 

 

Frank sighed, his chest deflating. “She’ll be relieved.” 

 

“That’s not all,” Lucius continued smugly. “That  _ little bastard that shall not be named ever again _ is on his way to a juvenile detention center as we speak. Sirius found something interesting when he spoke to the students; he’d tried to force another girl into having sex with him.” 

 

“Christ,” Frank grumbled, throwing himself into is recliner and propping his feet up. “She’s going to be so happy when you tell her.” 

 

“Which concludes the good news. The bad news is that my son is an idiot. And a prick,” Lucius told him. “I’ve no doubt Hermione will be extremely happy when she gets home, just like Draco. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to last.” 

 

“Fucking Hell, can my daughter just have a break?” 

 

“By all means, take that anger and speak with my son. The damned little fool dated the Greengrass girl to make Hermione jealous. It worked spectacularly. The thing is, when she learns of it, she won’t trust him.” 

 

Frank could only sigh  _ again _ . “I hate teenagers.” 

 

“Cheers to that.”

 

* * *

  
  


“Careful,” Hermione whispered as he slipped through her window. “Dad is asleep, but anything will wake him up.” 

 

Draco grinned, kicking his shoes off before closing the window and locking it behind him. “Like he’ll be angry. He’s always expected it.” Before she could reply, though she’d already opened her mouth, he cupped her face and leaned down. “Shut up, Granger.” 

 

She pinched his nipple through his shirt out of spite, smirking when he jumped in surprise. Not saying a word, she slid her arms around his neck and walked him towards the bed. “How long?” Hermione asked softly. 

 

The backs of his knees met the edge of her bed. Draco sat down, taking her hand and pulling her to sit in his lap. He snaked one arm around her waist. “How long I’ve felt this way or how long since I’ve realized it?” 

 

Hermione grinned. “I know you well enough to know that when you answer a question with a question you’re trying to change the subject. It’s okay if you’re embarrassed,” She teased. 

 

“One thing I’ll never be embarrassed of is the way I feel about you,” he replied smoothly, his hands coming up to frame her face as he brushed his lips against hers. She sank into him, blissfully ignorant at the guilt that seemed to be eating away at him. 

 

It would be for the best to tell her. She would learn eventually, and she’d be so much angrier if the truth didn’t come from him. Yet, doing the right thing required him to let go of her, to stop tasting strawberry lip balm, and to lose the warmth of her being tucked against him. So, being purely selfish, he didn’t let go of his best friend. 

 

“Ah, fuck.” She whimpered in pain, and he broke away from her. “Uh,” she stammered, blushing. “Foot cramp. It’s nothing. Ignore me, please?” 

 

He snorted, lifting her by her hips and pushing on her shoulders so she’d lay down. “You’re such an idiot. Just tell me it hurts, and we can stop.” 

 

“Well,” she began teasingly. “the kissing part isn’t what’s hurting me, and I  _ really  _ didn’t want to stop that.” Hermione’s laugh was too loud, and he jumped forward to cover her mouth. “Sorry,” was her muffled reply. 

 

Draco slipped her shoe off, pressing his thumb into the arch of her foot, massaging gently. “Does this help any?” he asked. 

 

Hermione’s chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. Her cheeks were heating up in the darkness as she looked down at him. “It feels..really good,” she managed, squeezing her eyes shut as he laughed lightly. “Don’t quit,” she whined once his hand fell away. 

 

“I thought you wanted to keep kissing,” Draco drawled, one eyebrow arched as she glared at him. 

 

“Would you please shut up?” Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. Not that it did much good since she peeked between her fingers. “Is this real? Did tonight actually happen, or am I dreaming?” 

 

His fingers worked slowly, creeping up her calves while he gently massaged the muscles there. “I must admit I would be irritated for this to have been a dream,” he told her. 

 

Hermione seemed to melt against her pillows, hair fanning out across them as her hands rested, interlaced, across her stomach. “Talk to me - about anything. The silence is awkward.” 

 

He snorted. “You’re the awkward one, Granger. Though, just to point it out,  _ you’re  _ the one who kissed  _ me. _ ” 

 

“I will throw you out of my second story window, Malfoy,” she snapped, jerking her head to look away from him. 

 

“Fine, fine,” he conceded. “What are you thinking about right now?” 

 

“Not that,” she stuttered. “It’s embarrassing.” 

 

“With a reaction like that, you’ll have to tell me. Or else I might,..” He pulled away from her, putting his hands to his sides. A chuckle slipped between his lips as hers parted in mock anger. “What will you do about it?” 

 

“Prick,” she snarled, jumping forward and grabbing him by his shirt. In her haste, however, she hadn’t accounted for how close Draco was kneeling to the edge of the bed, nor had she considered just what would happen after she chose to lightly tickle his sides. 

 

“Fuck,” Draco hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth as the two of the tipped over the side of the mattress. Cradled against him, Hermione landed on top of him. 

 

“Are you all right?” she hurried, probing the spot on his head that he smacked against the floor. “Do you imagine he heard?” 

 

“I imagine _ my  _ father heard,” he replied. “There’s only one way you can make it up to me.” There was nothing good about the grin he wore. “You’d better tell me what you were thinking.” 

 

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears, shifting to where she was sitting up, straddling his waist. She moved to get off of him, but he held her there. “If you really must know,” Hermione sighed, “Ron and I have a bet. A completely ridiculous bet that I was obviously always going to win, but he more or less demanded we put money on it.” 

 

Draco snorted. “And how much money do you or Weasley stand to lose?” 

 

There was something about the way he was staring up at her that kept her heart pounding. Something between the lines of longing and wonder; she thought it might be promises of what was coming next for them. 

 

“About fifteen pounds,” she replied easily, trying not to react as his thumbs stroked the bare skin of her hips. “Are you unable to keep your hands off of me?” 

 

“Are you serious? Of course I can’t keep my bloody hands off of you,” Draco shot back. “You’re intoxicating.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “What did the two of you bet on?” 

 

She laughed, already imagining his reaction as she thought about it. “He bet me fifteen pounds that we’d shag before the weekend was over.” 

 

Draco choked. 

 

Continuing, she added to that shock, quoting Ronald, “He said, ‘I’d be surprised if you weren’t walking funny come Monday morning.’ He also mentioned the locker room talk that entails you are a very good at…well, whatever it is you do.” 

 

“Weasley bet on my sex life?” Draco’s eyes were wide. “That prat! How insensitive is it to say that after you, well, you-?” 

 

She stopped him, laying her palm on his chest. “Do you remember how I told you in that very first week I was scared I would never be able to be in a relationship? That I was scared to be a virgin, and scared Cormac ruined whatever experiences I would have?” Hermione spoke easily, tilting her head to the side. 

 

He nodded, moving to completely sit up.  

 

“I’m not all that scared anymore. Maybe today is better than yesterday, or maybe it’s going to be worse tomorrow,” Hermione mused. “I do know, however, that it’s easier with you. Ron wasn’t being insensitive with me. I’d rather laugh about sex than be afraid of it for the rest of my life.” 

 

“I’d like to point out that you’ll never be laughing about sex with me.” She giggled at this, bending down to brush her lips against his. “And that if you ever do, my pride will be deeply wounded.” 

 

“Poor thing.” 

 

“My real question is how did this bet even come up? I’m trying to think here, but I can’t imagine any normal conversation that Weasley asks you if you plan to shag me.” 

 

She shrugged. “It was random. We were sitting by the fountain, and he asked me if I planned to tell you how I felt-”

 

“What? You can’t expect me to believe that Weasley was calm about this. The two of you broke up, Granger. He was crazy about you.” 

 

She laughed. “I know. I was there, Draco. It was inevitable, and he accepted it. It might have had something to do with the fact that he called me, and I also quote,  _ a raging bitch since I’d had to see Astoria with you so often _ . I was not happy. Separating was his idea. We’re still going to be friends, of course. We get along too well not to be. Anyway, Ron made it a point to mention that all boys have some sort of want to take a girl’s virginity.” 

 

“Well, I-” he stammered awkwardly, his normally pale cheeks turning red. 

 

“Which then I pointed out that I wasn’t even ready for that sort of thing and Ron should really stop trying to see how red my face can be.” Hermione smirked, not letting this rare opportunity to leave Draco speechless get away. “Is that true though? What he said?” 

 

“Well, everyone is different, Hermione. I couldn’t possibly know what every male thinks about that topic and-” 

 

She rolled her eyes. It was a rare occasion indeed for the blond below her to ramble. “Draco,” she said softly. “I wasn’t asking about everyone else. I don’t care about them. I’m asking about you.” 

 

He froze. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.  

 

“That’s not an answer.” 

 

“You already know the answer, Granger.” 

* * *

  
  
  


It was as the sun was rising that he woke her up, muttering a quick goodbye and kissing her forehead before he climbed out of her bedroom window. Hermione caught him just before he made his way to the tree, kissing him in a way that nearly made him come back inside with her. She’d told him, albeit shyly, that she would see him later. 

 

Hermione had laid back down, curling into her blankets after covering the windows with the black curtains. It was only six am, and she was sure she’d sleep until noon after the long night she’d had. 

 

The early stirrings of her father had just begun as she fell asleep. 

 

At half past eleven, she was shaken awake by Luna, who hovered over her. Her eyes were misty, bright and blue. “Hermione--” 

 

She sat up immediately, the sheets falling away. “Are you okay? What’s happened? Did something happen with Theo?” 

 

“No,” she hesitated, biting her lip. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse to tell you, love. If it were Theo who had done it, I like to think you would tell me. So, Draco-“

 

“You aren’t making a lick of sense. I just saw Draco, all night in fact,” Hermione replied, crossing her legs as Luna sat in front of her. “Is he okay?”

 

“Quite fine,” Luna told her quietly, taking her hand and brushing her thumb across Hermione’s knuckles. What was meant to calm her only made her stomach twist. “I take it the two of you have stopped dancing in circles now?”

 

Hermione nodded. 

 

Luna sighed. “Then I’ve given him the chance to be truthful with you. What do you know about Astoria Greengrass? About their relationship?”

 

It was as if lead had formed in her stomach. 

 

* * *

  
  


Theo was positive this was the worst way to go about it, but Luna had a point. He doubted Draco would tell Hermione a thing. And the truth about Astoria, which really wasn’t  _ that _ bad, combined with the fact that he’d felt this way for a long time, far before her relationship with Weasley was serious at all would be detrimental to any relationship they worked towards. 

 

Having been his best mate since their earliest years, he felt a small twinge of guilt as he knocked on the Malfoys’ front door. He thought he was going to be sick. At least he had the pleasure of scolding Malfoy. His girlfriend had to sit down with Hermione and tell her news that should have come from Draco. 

 

The door swung open, revealing said prat. “Theo? What are you doing here?” 

 

“We need to talk.” Theo pushed past him, storming into the living room. “Can you just fucking explain something to me?” His anger had set in again, squashing any guilt he had. Draco eyed him warily. 

 

The living room, being the exact same as it always had been, was laid out meticulously: a long sofa in front of the flat screen television, the glass coffee table with ebony legs beneath it. All Theo could think about was bringing his hand down and knocking the marble vase from the small table beside the leather recliner and watching it shatter against the floor. At the very least, it would be an inanimate object he destroyed. 

 

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about, Theo,” Draco snapped, shoving his hands into the pockets of his joggers. “I can’t think of any possible reason for you to show up here just to yell at me like a toddler.” 

 

“You can’t?” Theo mocked. “Can you not think of anything, or are you so daft that you don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong? You lied to me, and I’m your best mate. It makes me wonder what you’ll do to Hermione.” Theo snarled, “ _ Greengrass _ . You really shouldn’t have conversations where you could be overheard.” 

 

“Astoria and I broke up last night. I saw Granger last night, all night in fact, and I haven’t lied to her about anything,” his friend replied, but his voice wavered at the end. His eyes gave him away as they shifted, and he stared at his sock-clad feet. “What do you know?” 

 

His temper bubbling over, Theo lost the calm he’d barely held onto. “I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been in love with Hermione  _ goddamn _ Granger for months, and you wanted her relationship with Weasley so badly that you wanted to sabotage it by making her jealous!” Theo thundered, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

 

To say Draco paled would be laughable, but his face drained of color. “You don’t know a sodding thing-” 

 

“Oh?” Theo mocked. “Did you forget about all of the times you tried to convince her he was bad for her? The only one I see that’s bad for her is someone who would lie to her.”

 

“All right!” Draco yelled. “I was jealous. I was furious that he was with her, and I was sick of wallowing in my own self pity. So when Astoria brought it up  _ to me _ , I said yes. We have  _ finally  _ admitted it though.” 

 

Theo froze. “What the fuck do you mean you’ve admitted it. You’ve told Granger you love her?” 

 

“Fuck no, I don’t want to overwhelm her,” he said. “She and I both admitted our relationships failed because we wanted each other.” 

 

Dragging a hand down his face, Theo groaned. “Mate, please tell me that Hermione knows Astoria wasn’t your girlfriend. And that you’ve already groveled at her feet for forgiveness.” 

 

Draco shook his head. “I’m a selfish bastard; I knew she would be upset. We were having such a good night, and I couldn’t stand to ruin it.” 

 

“Well,” Theo drawled, “if you thought she was going to be upset, she’s going to be livid now. Luna is over there telling her every last damn thing. You  _ fucking idiot _ .” 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Ginny slid into her bedroom just as Luna had begun to speak once more. “So sorry I’m late. Ron isn’t the best driver.” The redhead took a seat on the bed, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her knuckles. “What’s going on? Luna said it was an emergency. I came as soon as I could.” 

 

Hermione looked from one friend to the other nervously. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Luna woke me up. You said Draco lied to me? I know that Astoria was his girlfriend and they broke up last night. Did they...not really?” 

 

“No, nothing like that. I overheard a conversation between she and Malfoy a few days ago. It doesn’t sound like he told you the truth. The first part, which we should keep to ourselves since it’s not our secret to tell, is that Astoria is gay.” 

 

Hermione stiffened. “Then why…? Was dating him just to hide that? Perhaps it was just a favor, and that’s why he didn’t want to tell me?” 

 

“There you go, believing the best in people,” Luna sighed. “No, it was a fake relationship designed to make you jealous because Malfoy wanted to sabotage your relationship with Ron.” 

 

Hermione looked above their head, counting ten blemishes in the ceiling to stop herself from exploding. Taking a deep breath took more effort on her part than she cared to admit. “So,” Hermione began, clasping her hands together in her lap. “That would mean all of the times they conveniently snogged in front of me, or took those sappy bloody photographs together, it was for the sole purpose of making me angry?” 

 

“That wanker. I’m going to kick his arse,” Ginny growled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Please carry on without me. I’m no help at comforting you. My skills would be put to better use elsewhere.” She threw the bedroom door open, rushing for the stairs. There was a nearly inaudible, “Hi, Mister Granger. Bye Mister Granger.” 

 

“That week was awful for me,” Hermione whispered. She hated crying, loathed the weakness it made her feel. She’d had enough of it to last her a lifetime. “He should have told me last night instead of kissing me, and cuddling me, and making me feel like I was the only person who mattered,” she spat. 

 

“Not in the interest of taking his side, but all of those are still true. I assumed he wouldn’t know how to tell you, but you needed-” 

 

“I know that it’s not as bad as what I feared you were going to tell me. Yet a lie by omission is still a lie,” Hermione said, raising a hand to wipe her eyes. “And I wish he had just told me his feelings had changed. I did.” 

 

“You’re braver than he is,” Luna pointed out. 

 

“That’s not an excuse!”

 

“I know. I wanted to make you laugh so maybe you wouldn’t cry.” Luna pulled her friend forward as Hermione burst into tears, hiccuping. “It’s going to be okay, Hermione,” she whispered, rubbing her back. “The two of you have already been through so much. This is just one more thing, and the two of you will work it out. You know it as well as I do.” 

 

“Tell me I can still trust him then, Luna. I can already feel it, doubt slowly creeping whenever he tells me anything at all,” Hermione mumbled into her collarbone. 

 

“I somehow doubt he will have an issue with earning your trust. That can come after you have time to yourself, but not really by yourself since Ginny and I will be here.” 

 

“Luna, I’d really rather-” 

 

Her bedroom door opened, revealing a frantic Ginny as she slammed it shut, locking the door. “Uh, Malfoy might have chased me and wouldn’t believe me when I told him to go home.” 

 

Hermione laughed when he pounded on the door, tears still rolling down her face. “Yeah, he doesn’t listen well. Just - just let me handle it. Can the two of you leave for a minute?” 

 

Luna grasped Ginny by the elbow, telling her to keep her opinions to herself as they stepped into the hallway. 

 

“Malfoy, you can come in, but lock the door behind you so none of our eavesdropping friends come in.” Hermione stood up from the bed, smoothing her pajama bottoms down. “Hey, so Astoria, huh? I would have never guessed.” 

 

“Don’t talk about Astoria right now, Hermione,” he begged, taking two long strides towards her. 

 

She immediately stepped away. “If you come within arms length, I might slap you. How could we not talk about her, Draco? She’s part of the reason this is happening. I’m not blaming her, to be clear, but you had a choice. A choice to tell me how you felt. Which do you think would have meant more to me?” 

 

“Hermione, please, I-” 

 

“I thought you had told me the full truth last night, you see, and my heart was full. I didn’t think I could be that happy - not after the last few hellacious months. As it turns out, I can’t be that happy. Not without something falling out of the sky and tearing it apart.” Hermione folded her arms across her chest, her voice small as she tried not to cry. 

 

“You have to believe that I never,  _ ever _ wanted to hurt you. Hermione, you’re everything to me. I don’t care how sappy it is, and I don’t care if you slap me.” Draco stood against her, the tips of his fingers grazing the underside of her wrist. “I’ve made a monumental mess of things, and I couldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive me.” 

 

Hermione caved at the way his eyes were just as watery as her own. At the way his shoulders were slumped and he looked like a shell of himself. “Don’t say that, Draco,” she whispered, placing her palm on his cheek. He leaned into it, nuzzling her hand. She could feel her heart splintering. “Luna said it herself, but I know it’s true. We will somehow come out of this. Likely not fully unscathed, but we will. I don’t forgive you right now, but I know I will.” 

 

“Can I just say, I-” 

 

“No, you can’t say it. Not right now when I could believe it’s said for forgiveness,” Hermione told him. “Tell me when we’re happy again.”

 

“You already know then.” Draco bent down, leaning his forehead to hers. 

 

“It was a guess, but I know now.” She laughed, her eyes closing. “I’m still furious with you.” Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist for a moment, giving herself at least the knowledge to know she needed to savor this last embrace. “Don’t forget that we have  _ Star Wars  _ soon, so try not to piss me off anymore before that.” 

 

“That’s three bloody weeks away. Surely you can’t plan to be angry for that long,” he groaned. “Fine, even if it is. I’ll give you the best goddamn date of your life.” 

 

She snorted. “I’ve no doubt. Get out of my house.” 

 

“Kiss me?” Draco pleaded. 

 

“I want you to know this is punishing myself as well, but no. Not until I can look at you without wanting to cry,” Hermione told him quietly. “And if you steal a kiss from me right now, I’ll bite your lip off.” 

 

“That sounded pleasant until you said ‘off’,” he smirked.  

 

“Out!” 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Looking in the mirror was still strange, even months after the night she thought that whole world had fallen apart. She’d thought that once it was over, once she was home, she wouldn’t be who she had been. 

 

The memory of looking into the mirror in the hospital, with her mascara still stained under her eyes, cut her. Where had the intelligent girl with curly hair gone? There was something different about her, something that ran deeper than the dark circles under her eyes. Hermione remembered how she couldn’t feel the pain from her back being sewn back together; they told her she was in shock. 

 

Nurses said she would feel the soreness later, warned her father of the upkeep of her stitches, and that they would dissolve. Hermione had overheard the words the doctor whispered to her father while she slept, curled up to Malfoy. 

 

Though she hadn’t been able to give all of her attention, she’d made out some of the words:  _ panic attacks, suicide, depression, and most of all, “It would be for the best to watch her closely.”  _

 

They hadn’t told her how much her life would change, or how physical wounds were easy to heal. Though she supposed she would have known that, but she underestimated the shock to her mental health. It had been a jarring change to go from studying in the Hogwarts library to feeling afraid to be alone. Before, she enjoyed going on long drives by herself. Mister Granger never told her she couldn’t use his car. 

 

She’d been afraid to be alone, and she was sick of it. Anger mounting inside of her, she was screaming. Why should she be afraid to enjoy all of the things she had? Why should she be afraid of a future when it came down to Draco? To university? 

 

Hermione bent over the sink, splashing water onto her face before turning the water back off. 

 

Luna and Ginny sat on the bed in her bedroom, waiting for her to come back out so they could go to dinner. Luna’s treat (she had insisted), and the day had been so incredibly long that Hermione wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and invite Draco over once more. 

 

In a surprising twist, Hermione easily accepted that she wasn’t angry at him for creating a fake relationship to grab her attention. Not that she didn’t wish he would have told her last night, especially since there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind: unwelcome thoughts like fear if he’d ever lied to her before, or if he would lie to her again. 

 

The fear was valid, but it was wrong. No amount of doubt could make her stop believing in him, in  _ them, _ though she hated to be such a sap. 

 

Perhaps it made things easier to know that her desires burned brighter than her fears. 

* * *

  
  


In her locker on not the following Monday, but the one after, she found her books to be reorganized and stacked on top of each other. All to make room for a clear vase that had been filled with flowers. 

 

“Damn.” Theo whistled just as Hermione’s bag slid from her shoulder and fell to the floor. “He feels horrible.” 

 

She nodded, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut. “I feel like an awful person for leaving him to his own guilt for so long.” The guilt twiisted her stomach and  she had spent the night awake thinking of the nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it brought her no comfort to know he was doing the exact same thing. 

 

Theo shook his head, patting her mop of hair. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, he’s gutted over it, but he does understand. Malfoy just wants to make this up to you. He fucked up.” 

 

Hermione nibbled on her lip. “Did he though? I’m not sure if holding onto anger is the best way to go about this anyway. Not when it feels like my heart is broken.” 

 

“Let him grovel, then forgive him,” Theo told her, snatching her bag from the floor. “He’s a complete prick, but he’s never wanted to see you hurt.” 

 

“They’re gorgeous.” Hermione reached out, running the pads of her fingers along the rose petals before taking her bag from Theo. “Do you know where he is?” 

 

“At this time after another shit weekend? I’d bet he’s in the locker room taking a shower. He probably used the school’s gym this morning. You know how he puts his anger towards a work out.” She nodded at this, slipping her arms through the straps. “Are you going to him?” 

 

She gave a sharp nod, feeling better than she had in the last week. He’d given her time, over a week’s worth, and she was sure she was going to burst if she didn’t see him as soon as she could. “Would you go with me and make sure there’s no one else inside before I go in?” 

 

Theo followed her, grinning as she led him through the corridors of Hogwarts. She’d waved to Ron and Harry but had cut them off by rounding a corner. She open the door leading to the outside and took off down the sidewalk. “Any last minute advice you’d like to give me?” Hermione asked as they neared the field house. “I’m nervous.” 

 

Theo shrugged. “Not really, no. You don’t have to do anything besides storm in there and snog him. I’m sure he will figure out that you’ve forgiven him.” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “Right, I forgot that you’re not the one I should be asking for advice.” Hermione laughed, leaning against the brick wall and lacing her fingers through the other while picking dirt from under her nails. There was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind, whispering to her if only to remind her how she feared a week would be long enough for him to lose interest anyway. Perhaps she had already ruined things, and she  _ knew  _ that if there was a way for her to show how far she’d come in the last months, it was that she could stomp those thoughts down. 

 

Hermione needed to remind herself that this was Draco, the one person she’d been able to trust for seventeen years, and she wasn’t all that scared anymore. 

 

A squeak fell from her mouth as the locker room door slammed open, and she jumped slightly. Theo let the metal door close behind him, nodding her way. “He has no idea you’re here,” he said. “He thinks I went in there to call him a bitch.” 

 

Muffling her giggle with her hand, she asked him, “Did you, though?” 

 

“Of course I called him a bitch,” Theo grumbled. “So, if you could please go in there so the pair of you can make up, that would be bloody fantastic. You don’t know how irritating he has been. Harry and I were on the verge of strangling him in his sleep. Lucius is probably almost there.  _ Hermione this, Hermione that, _ ” Theo imitated. 

 

“Hey,” she scolded. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.” 

 

Wide eyed, Theo pulled her in for a tight hug. Hermione patted him on the back. “My God,” his voice was thick with exaggerated sadness.  “They grow up so fast.” He was pretending to cry, and it was all she could do to keep her straight face and push him away. 

 

“Would you fuck off?” she grumbled. “Tell Luna since I won’t see her before the first class, would you?” 

 

“She’ll be happy for you.” 

 

“Right.” Hermione shoved her hands into her pockets. “Well, get going. You can’t stay.” She smiled as he walked away, nearly skipping, throwing a playful look over his shoulder. 

 

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she considered turning around, leaving this for another day. It was why she took a quick step and pushed the door open. The metal was cold against her palm. In her haste, she’d shoved the door open, sending it into the wall with a echoing clang. 

 

“Nott, I swear to fucking God if you came in here to call me a bitch one more time, I will-” His voice cut off as she stepped out from behind the wall of the corridor leading into the locker room, her hands clasped behind her back. “Granger?” He stared at her in a state of disbelief, gray eyes widened as he moved to grab his shirt. 

 

He must have just stepped out of the shower. His hair was damp, hanging down in front of his face, but she’d always loved the disheveled look on him. Droplets of water slipped down his bare torso, and Hermione found it hard to look away. Her cheeks flaming, she caught his eye again. He wore black, loose joggers, and he’d clearly been surprised since he hadn’t put on shoes yet. 

 

Before he could grab his shirt, a Hogwarts jumper, she sprinted towards him, throwing her arms around him. Muscled arms locked around her, catching her. Though he stumbled backwards, he was quick enough not to let her fall. Draco turned his face into her hair, nuzzling her gently as his fingers massaged the skin along her spine. 

 

“I missed you,” Hermione whimpered, squeezing him tightly. “Oh, my God, I missed you so much.” 

 

“I know the feeling,” he whispered, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and pressing his lips to her throat gently. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.” 

 

“Don’t you dare ever make me so angry again.” Hermione laughed even as she said it. “You damned prat, it has been  _ awful. _ ” 

 

He chuckled beside her ear, bending down to kiss the skin below it. “Why was Nott really here?” Draco asked her. “I somehow doubt it was just to call me names.” 

 

She giggled. “I asked him to make sure there was no one in here, but I’m positive calling you names was an added bonus. I didn’t want to storm in here if the entire rugby team was here with you.” He finally set her down, and she was looking up at him, her cheeks hot. 

 

“No, it’s just you and me,” he told her. “A week is long enough, right?” 

 

Hermione stepped closer to him, sliding her palms up his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck once more. “It’s too long if you ask me,” she mumbled. 

 

Fingers latching into her hair and melding her into the curve of his body, his lips came down on hers. Hermione gasped just as his tongue ran along the seam on her lips, and it came crashing down on her that  _ this is exactly how it was meant to feel.  _ “Draco,” she murmured. 

 

The door leading into the locker room slammed open and she broke away from him, her eyes widening. “Fuck,” he muttered, taking hold of her hand and pulling her into the shower. Keeping with appearances, as if he were the only one in here taking a shower, he turned the knob, the water splashing against the floor and covering her shoes. “I can’t bloody control myself.” 

 

Hermione laughed as quietly as she could when he bent to kiss her again, her back flat against the wall while his palm slapped against the tile above her head. “Malfoy?” A voice that most definitely wasn’t hers called out. 

 

“Shh,” he whispered to her, his hand settling on her waist. She couldn't pull away, but she was aware the responsible thing would have been to do just that “It’s just Wood. Probably Finnigan too, but-” 

 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Hermione hissed as the shower curtain was ripped open.

 

Seamus whistled while Oliver stared at the two of them under the stream of water, stunned. “When exactly did this happen?” he asked, looking to Draco for an explanation. “We called it, mate!” Oliver slapped Draco on the back. 

 

“Could you get out, please?” Hermione grumbled, her head hitting the wall as she slumped against the wall. “Don’t you have someone else to irritate?” Draco was smirking, the smug bastard. 

 

“Actually, we were sent to find Malfoy here. Professor Snape is looking for him since he was late to his first class. I’m sure he’ll be looking for you, too,” Seamus told them. 

 

Hermione was off the wall and out of the shower in a second. Malfoy shared the same worried look that she wore. “The last person I want to know about what I’m doing-” 

 

“Who you’re doing, you mean?” Oliver corrected. 

 

“-Is my Godfather,” Draco finished, grabbing the shirt that he’d thrown over the bench and slipping it over his head. “You’re soaked; sorry about that.” 

 

At Oliver and Seamus’s laughter, Hermione threw a bottle of cologne, it was out in the open, sitting in Draco’s gym bag, at their heads. 

 

She and Draco rushed out of the locker room, and she at least tried to tame her now frizzy hair, but considering the look on Snape’s face as they stepped inside of the school, she didn’t think it had done her any good. “And  _ what  _ were the two of you doing that made you late for your first class?” he asked, an amused smile toying with the edge of his lips. 

 

“We were studying!” Oliver called from behind her, dissolving into laughter as their professor’s eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline. 

 

“And why are the two you tracking water into the school?” he asked calmly. 

 

“Professor,” Hermione began, only to be cut off again. 

 

“They fell into the water fountain,” Seamus answered immediately. 

 

“Together?” Professor Snape asked incredulously. 

 

“Oh, yes, attached at the hip these two are,” Oliver said, and she thought that Draco was going to give in to his temper. 

 

She had been nearly certain he was going to choke both of their classmates until the passed out. “Ah, well they’ve always been that way. Perhaps one of you who is not Mister Wood, or Mister Finnigan could tell me why you’re coming from the boy’s locker room, which is the opposite direction of the water fountain then?” 

 

“Mother-” Draco began, and Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth. 

 

She sighed. “We’re sorry, Professor Snape.” 

 

It was all too fitting that their professor looked like the cat who got the cream. 

 

* * *

  
  


Of course, no one was surprised by them. In fact, not one of their friends batted and eye when they had walked into the Great Hall that day, her fingers laced through his. Hermione couldn’t stop smiling as Draco acted as if he needed to show her off to every last person that already knew her. 

 

Slipping into her seat, which technically had always been her seat since it was right beside Draco, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Theo grumbled of how he was going to vomit if this kept up. Harry decided to see how angry he could make Malfoy with his constant innuendos. Luna and Ginny, the latter conveniently sitting far away from Harry just in case, watched on in mostly silence. 

 

Until Luna thought the best ice breaker would be to ask Draco what his favorite sex position was. Hermione just wished the earth would violently crack open and swallow her whole. By sheer luck she was able to say, “Well, Parkinson was all too happy to tell me all about Draco’s performance and what he likes, not to mention what he doesn’t like.” Her nose crinkled. “So, I think I’ve got a handle on it.” 

 

Theo roared with laughter, his knee jerking and slamming into the bottom of the table. “Mate, I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?” 

 

Draco was looking at her, clearly surprised ,and his smirk had been wiped from his face. “Granger, what  _ exactly  _ did she tell you?” 

 

Her face was hot, and she clasped her hands beneath the table, glaring at the back of the dark haired girl sitting across the hall. “Well, she told me everything, but yeah, she told me  _ that. _ ” 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Harry butted in, leaning across the table. “What are we talking about here. Is it kinky?” 

 

“Shut up,” Hermione hissed, turning away from them. “It’s nothing bad.” 

 

“Is that to say you would be interested in whatever  _ that  _ is?” Harry rattled on. “You won’t tell me? Fine.” He stood from his chair, just a foot away from Malfoy. “Hey, Parkinson! What does Malfoy like that he wouldn’t want - you wanker!” 

 

His arm fell away from her shoulders as he sprung forward and tackled Harry. They both tumbled over his chair, crashing against the floor. Hermione was too busy giggling to warn them that Professor Snape was already headed their way. 

 

* * *

  
  


The last twenty four hours of her life had been spent in the living room of Draco’s house, completed by a ridiculous fort they had built by dragging all of the blankets and pillows in the house downstairs. Trying to impress her, he’d climbed on top of the table in his living room to hang a sheet from the ceiling fan to create a makeshift canopy. 

 

“You didn’t have to do all off this,” Hermione told him, sitting beside him with her back against the wall of pillows. She snuggled into his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Take a picture of us.  I want to remember this.” 

 

He smirked, fumbling with his phone and pulling it from his pocket. Hermione leaned closer, smiling as he turned to kiss her cheek instead of looking at the camera. 

 

“You really shouldn’t blush so much; you might end up permanently looking like a tomato.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but then she noticed how he was moving the photo into a album titled with a red heart. “What is that?” She reached out, taking his phone from him. Hot tears pricked her eyes as she scrolled through, realizing that these were all photos of her, but it was when he stopped her from scrolling that her heart stopped. 

 

She recognized this. It was the night he had told her he couldn’t sleep at her side anymore. The night she drove his car too fast through London and he had been all too happy to spend it by her side. “Do you know why this one is special?” he murmured, his voice thick, low, and husky. 

 

Hermione turned to face him, her lips a breath away from him. “Is it because it’s me?” she asked, albeit hesitantly. 

 

“Close, but not quite. You see, this is the night I realized that I am hopelessly in love with you, and I have been for a long time. I-” She cut him off, flinging her arms around his neck and tackling him against the pillows. “Granger-” 

 

“You’re such a softie.” She laughed, kissing him hard and grabbing him by the collar. “Just kiss me, and-” 

 

“And don’t stop?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“Yeah,” she breathed, leaning down to kiss him only to be rolled onto her back while his fingers trailed along the sides of her arms. “Definitely don’t do that,” she laughed. 

 

It was still a surprise for her how easy it was to lose herself in him, to be so open and unafraid. His knee settled between her legs but he hovered over her instead of pressing his weight into her. “Hermione-” 

 

“Shh,” she whispered, her fingers grasping his soft hair as she tugged him down to her. “We can talk later.” 

 

“I’m just trying to tell you-” She bit his lower lip to coax him into silence. “Fuck, Hermione, we’re going to be late for the movie if you don’t quit doing that!” 

 

She giggled, a high pitched sound that she wasn’t so sure had come from her, but it had. “There’s a later showing-” 

 

“Why the Hell is there a fort the size of the garage in my living room?” Lucius’s voice came through the air just as Draco’s fingers had moved to tickle her sides. 

 

“Draco, stop that!” she screamed, still laughing and trying to roll away from him. Unfortunately, it was as she rolled over that she kicked one of the cushions from the couch holding their fort together and it all came tumbling down. 

 

The sheet was torn off of the top and it was then they saw not just Lucius peering down at them accusingly, but her father and Snape as well. “Don’t the two of you have a  _ Star Wars  _ to get to?” Snape drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word. 

 

They scrambled to get out of the house. 

* * *

  
  
  


“Do you imagine Hermione will tell you how their first date went?” Lucius asked, sliding a glass of scotch across the countertop. “I’m worried Draco will tell me anything.” 

 

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “She won’t have to since we’re also going to see  _ The Last Jedi _ , and Severus is driving.” He downed his drink in two swallows, moving to dump it into the sink. “That’s still my daughter, and if he lays a hand on her during this movie, I’m going throw my drink at his head.” 

 

“When was it decided that I was driving?” Severus asked them, sliding his scotch to Frank instead. “Was it from the first time I agreed to drive you all around in University?” 

 

“Well,” Lucius said, pushing his sleeve up to look at his watch. “We should really get going if we want to make it there before them.” 

 

“Not to worry,” Severus commented. “They’ll pull over on the side of the road to snog at some point. They were definitely snogging in the boy’s locker room when I gave them detention.” 

 

“Fucking  _ teenagers. _ ” Frank growled as if it were the filthiest word in the world. 

  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This have been the most surreal experience I’ve had in writing. Epilogue to follow as a double post. Please review both and tell me what you think! Thank you so much for sticking with me!


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the bottom there will be an extremely long author’s note. Credit is due to some, and also I have a lot to say as per fucking usual. This story was rated M because of the near sexual assault on the first chapter, the brief mentions of suicide even though that part was never detailed. I always planned to have this scene, I just didn’t know if it would pan out. Lemon below. First time for Hermione lemon.

  
  
  
  


_ Nine months later  _

 

She’d chosen to go to Oxford, a sharp contrast to the original plans of her boyfriend’s. Draco had told her on several occasions that he might go to Cambridge. There had not been one instance where he entertained the thought of Oxford. 

 

Hermione had been clear in the fact that he didn’t have to attend the same university as her for their relationship to thrive. He could have been across the city, he could have gone to Scotland, and they would have made it work as if they were merely blocks apart. 

 

In the end, he had made the decision to attend Oxford University alongside her, claiming that she was the one thing he wouldn’t be able to leave behind. It was on his birthday though, that he asked her if she would be open to different living arrangements. Wide eyed and with a mouth full of chocolate cake, she’d seen a small box on the table. 

 

It was a key: a key to a flat that he’d been able to put a payment down on with the help of his father. Draco promised her nearly immediately, before she even had the chance to tell him no, that he had already found a job and was more than capable of managing bills. Without interrupting him, she’d only leaned back in her chair while he told all of the pros versus the cons - the pros being mostly that he could see her everyday.

 

_ “Is this what you want for your birthday?” Hermione had asked, pink staining her cheeks. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”  _

 

_ Theo and Harry scoffed.  _

 

_ “Granger, we’ve been basically living together for our entire lives.” Draco told her, grabbing her hand. “Just say yes.”  _

 

She now understood why her father harped on and on about how you could never truly know someone until you lived with them. There was a list of things that irritated her about him, like leaving his socks right beside the hamper instead of  _ inside of it.  _ He never cleaned the dishes right on the first try. He’d left the toilet seat up one night and it had not gone well for her midnight visit to the bathroom in the dark. 

 

His echoing laughter had woken their neighbors. 

 

Yet the one aspect of their relationship he stayed far away from was sex. She understood why; she had been the one to insist that she was not ready for that kind of step, to let her guard down because she was worried she would mess up. Quoting his words at her of how the first time would probably be awful anyway...well, he raked his fingers through his hair. 

 

And so, nothing had happened. Not really. The night they moved in at the end of July they had thrown a birthday party for Harry, and the pair of them had drank a bit too much. Enough for her to throw caution to the wind and wind up in their bedroom topless and straddling his waist. He hadn’t talked about it, but Hermione hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how his tongue felt tracing over her bare flesh. 

 

That was how this had come about. She found that she was frustrated. Was she putting it off because she was scared because of McLaggen and what he had done to her? Or was it that she was scared to be with Draco at all? She  _ had  _ seen the handful of girls he’d slept with, and she had been the one to discover his raunchy magazine collection when they were twelve. 

 

Luna told her, “Why don’t you do that thing that Harry was trying to talk about? Around last Christmas?” 

 

Hermione shook her head quickly. “That’s not...that’s not as simple as giving a blowjob, Luna,” Hermione said, shoving her fork into her pasta. 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Are you going to make me say it?”    
  
Luna nodded.    
  
“Fine, exhibitionism, which isn’t exactly how I imagine my first time,” Hermione grumbled. 

 

“There’s a nice road leading out of the city where he could bend you over the hood of his car,” Luna said airily, pulling out her phone. “I could show you where if you like?”

 

“ _ Luna, _ ” she hissed, but she stored the thought for the future. 

 

* * *

  
  


It was how she ended up here, sitting on their bed while he showered. She’d nearly talked herself out of this three times already, telling herself that it would be easy to climb off of the bed and dress in her pajamas again. But no, she wanted to be bloody brave, wanted to surprise her boyfriend in one of the best ways she knew how. 

 

So she sat on her knees, clad in a black, lacy knickers set. She wore his old rugby jersey, and it slipped off of one shoulder. Hermione had fixed her hair that morning, taming it as much as she could. 

 

When the water shut off, she swallowed. Draco stepped out from the bathroom, a crimson towel wrapped around his waist. He hadn’t seen her yet, as he dried his hair. “Granger, could you hand me my glasses from the nightstand?” 

 

She leaned over, grabbing the frames and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Hermione came to stand in front of him, handing him the glasses. She waited with her head tilted to the side, a smile playing at her lips as she waited for him to look at her. 

 

She wasn’t disappointed as his lips parted, his tongue darting out to slide along his bottom lip. “Are you wearing my jersey?” 

 

“I’ve always worn your clothes. Why wouldn’t I now?” Hermione ran her nail along his chest, scraping over his chiseled abdomen and stopping at the beginning of the fluffy towel hung low around his waist. “What’s different?”

 

“The fact that you’re only wearing your knickers underneath,” he breathed, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “What are you doing, Hermione?” 

 

She nuzzled his hand, turning to kiss his open palm. “I picked the knickers out for you, but I didn’t pick green because I thought that would be too cliche.” 

 

He laughed. “I don’t give a fuck what color you wear, though you look ravishing in green.” Draco told her. “Are you-” 

 

“If you ask me if I’m sure, I have zero doubt that I will panic. And I will never work up the nerve again, so could you please just kiss me like you want to ravish me in that bed?” Hermione asked point blank and pointed back towards their large, four-poster bed. 

 

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he muttered, gathering her in his arms and pressing her against him. Draco reached up, pulling her hair tie from her hair and letting it fall down. “Do you want the light off?” 

 

Her “Please,” was soft - timid as she slid her arms around his neck. Even in her nervousness she couldn’t help but laugh when he opted for just picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Draco flipped the switch, carrying her towards their bed. 

 

He sat on the edge, positioning her to straddle his waist. Hermione reached for the edge of the shirt she wore, pulling it over her head and tossing it into the floor. She clung to him, a whimpering mess, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he kissed down her neck softly. “Draco...” She was breathless as his lips moved against the swell of her breasts, his tongue sliding just barely between her skin and the edge of her bra. “Oh-” 

 

“Stop thinking, Hermione, and just focus on how it feels,” he murmured. “There is no one here but you and me. You’re the one in control. If you want me to stop, I’ll-” 

 

“For God’s sake,  _ no. _ ” Her voice sounded far away as her head tipped backwards, and surely she hadn’t just grinded against him. “It’s...it’s too good. A bit overwhelming if I’m honest, but I don’t want to stop.” 

 

He smirked against her skin, reaching to unclasp her bra. His fingers brushed against the underside of her breasts as he pulled the scrap of lace off of her. “Do you want me to ask permission for everything, or will that irritate you more?” 

 

She laughed, leaned down to kiss him, pulling roughly at his hair. The way he gasped into her mouth was absolutely thrilling. “What I want is for you to treat me like any other girl and not like I am made of glass.” 

 

Draco gripped her hips, lifting her off of him and laying her against the sheets. “All right,” he told her, and suddenly he was crouched over her, his lips moving in a trail down her chest that made her shiver. 

 

She had been here before, in a scenario that was a far cry from the safety she felt now. Her nails dug into his biceps. It wasn’t just him that put  _ him  _ out of her head, not the way he flattened his tongue against her stiffened nipples. It was a flash, the realization that this was all her, the way she had been able to move on. 

 

“Draco,” she whined, lacing her fingers through his hair. “God, that’s-” Hermione arched into him, lifting her legs to push his towel down his hips with her toes. 

 

His mouth continued downwards and she attempted shutting her legs. “Hermione, can you trust me?” 

 

She bit her lip. “Not down there, though. I haven’t showered or-” 

 

He chuckled, a dark sound that sent made her tremble, and heat pool in her lower belly. “Hermione, I don’t give a fuck if you’ve showered. I love you, and I want you to love how I make you feel. Will you give me a chance?” 

 

“Okay,” Hermione breathed. 

 

“Spread your legs again, love.” 

 

Thankful for the dark room to hide her blush and the visible effect his words had on her, she parted her legs once more. Her legs shook as he kissed up each calf until he was exactly where he wanted to be, gently moving her knickers to the side. 

 

Hermione squealed as he blew over her clit, something she couldn’t have imagined would feel good at all. “Oh, fuck.” 

 

Draco’s tongue swiped across her clit, her hips nearly coming off of the bed, but he held her in place. It was the best kind of torture, but she was sure she wouldn’t be able to take the pleasure. The more his tongue gently moved against her, the more she keened against him. 

 

Sliding one finger into her entrance slowly, he distracted her from the uncomfortable feeling as he worked her towards -- well she wasn’t sure, but she was sure she’d read about it. “Draco.” Hermione dragged his name out, her moan broken by another gasp as he slowly worked with a second finger. “You were right.” Hermione braced herself on her elbows, her eyes having adjusted to the light and peering down at him. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” 

 

His fingers curled inside of her, stretching her slightly and pleasuring her immensely once he had gotten her past the unfamiliar feeling. “Draco, I need-” 

 

“What do you need, Hermione?” She could hear the smirk, his slight smugness, in his voice. Of course he wanted to savor this moment. 

 

“I don’t know!” God, had she ever heard herself whine like that in her life? So needy? As if she were nearly begging for something that she didn’t even know? 

 

“I know what you need,” he told her gently, his tongue sliding against her quicker, his fingers pressing some goddamn spot that she was sure he must have picked up along the way. 

 

“Could you tell me then, Draco?” The scream tore from her throat as her orgasm crashed into her. She slumped against the sheets, sweating and panting. It felt like she had shattered beneath him, like the greatest relief of her life had washed over her. “What the fuck was that?” she muttered. “Don’t tell me - I know what an orgasm is.” 

 

He laughed. 

 

“Come up here,” she told him quietly. “I didn’t think ahead, and I meant to buy condoms. Are you honestly laughing at me?” 

 

“Granger, love.” He kissed her forehead. “If you think I don’t have condoms, I’m offended. I’m nothing if not prepared.” 

 

“Then get one.” Hermione bit down on his shoulder, dragging her nails across his chest. “Right now, go.” He leaned over to his side of the bed, opening a drawer and pulling a foil packet from the bottom of it. “What you did, I could, well-” 

 

“This is enough, Hermione,” he told her, tearing the foil with his teeth. “This won’t feel great, not at first.” 

 

“I’m aware of how it feels. Well, I don’t know what it feels like to lose your virginity, but I’ve read about it.” At his laugh she continued, “A lot of research went into working up the nerve to do this.” 

 

“I’m grateful.” Draco rolled the condom down his cock, pulling her knickers down her legs. He positioned himself between her legs, and feeling the tip brushing against her made fear well up once again. “But we don’t have to do this.” 

 

“I want to,” she told him. “I trust you to spend your time making it up to me after it’s easier.” Hermione’s legs were wrapped loosely around his hips. “Please, Draco.” 

 

“Bite my shoulder if it hurts,” he told her and slowly entered her. 

 

Hermione nails would leave marks down his back as she bit down on his shoulder. Still, it wasn’t the pain she had imagined, not even as he slowly filled her. Breathing heavily next to his ear, she whispered, “Oh, you feel incredible.” 

 

“Fuck, you’re tighter than I would have thought. God,” he growled, his hair dropping into his face. “Hermione-” 

 

“Move,” she moaned at the loss of him, after he’d remained still for nearly a minute, and she craved that slow friction once more. “Slowly though.” 

 

She expected a witty retort, but his arms wrapped around her much smaller frame as he thrust into her. Hermione tilted his head up, kissing him, pulling him closer like she couldn’t quite get close enough to him. “I love you more than you will ever know,” she spoke quietly, arching in his embrace. “You’ve always been the person I’ve trusted unconditionally.” 

 

Draco released her, kissing her forehead as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. “I can’t last as long as I’d like, not after wanting this for so long.” 

 

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” she insisted, but two fingers slowly rubbed against her clit. Moaning his name, her eyes fluttered shut. 

 

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” he muttered, and slow, deep thrusts brought her closer, just as his fingers seemed to move faster. Moans fell away from her, her fingers fisting into the sheets below her. “Will you come for me, Hermione? I want to see you.” 

 

“Yes,” she gasped, and his last thrust, now that she was slick enough, and comfortable, was particularly deep as he rubbed her clit. “Please, there. There,” she repeated. And then, “ _ there. _ ” 

 

Her hands shot out, grabbing him and pulling him down to kiss her thoroughly as aftershocks racked her body. 

 

He brushed the hair off of her forehead, rolling onto his back and she nestled into his side. “You’re incredible.” He breathed. 

 

“I don’t know about all of that,” she sighed. “You’re rather incredible though.”    
  
He snorted.    
  
“I’ll pretend that you’re just naturally blessed instead of knowing you’ve had plenty of practice.” Hermione laid on top of the green sheets and threw her leg over his. 

 

“You know, Weasley, Theo, and Potter had a bet on when we would shag for the first time,” Draco told her, lazily dropping his arm around his shoulders. 

 

“Who won?”

 

“None of them did actually. I did.” Draco broke into laughter as she swatted at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Theo won, naturally. He’s always sticking his nose in our business.” 

 

“Do you imagine we could sleep in tomorrow?” Hermione asked. “I’m exhausted. And Draco?” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“I knew you went in on that bet. It’s why I didn’t do it last week.” She laughed as he stilled. “Goodnight. Love you,” Hermione muttered sleepily. The last thing she remembered was his lips brushing the top of her head and a quiet, 

 

“I love you more.” 

  
  
  


 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to start with the fact that this will probably be long, and I’m sorry if you thought the epilogue was longer, but I promise that I did my very best for it. 
> 
>  
> 
> I thought I would have more words when I finished this, more ways to throw myself at your feet and thank you profusely forever clicking on this story, whether you’ve reviewed it or not. Yet I don’t because I thought I’d have more time to think of sweet words. If we’re honest, I thought I would never finish this story. 
> 
> This was the hardest project I’ve ever taken on because sometimes it was hard to write. To write about the things that gut me. I had been asked if I had ever been sexually assaulted, and the answer is no. It’s my hope I’ve treated this with the sensitivity it deserved. Behind my computer screen, behind you seeing the chapters come up, there are HUNDREDS of messages between Christina and I. 
> 
> From explaining barristers to me and countless brit picks because I’m American. Let me tell you one that I CANNOT get down is closet-wardrobe. She put in a ton of work into this, prereading and helping me make it what it was. 
> 
> MrBenzedrine had started reviewing this, and I was stunned. I was new to this still and Sex Ed is one of my favorite stories and she says how she’d love to help me with some things.. WELL HELL YES. I’m shit with commas, and she knows it, but she still fixes them. If she were to edit this note, I’m sure she’d have some corrections to add. I’m so grateful for all of her help, and her kind words. 
> 
> I wrote this story to a playlist that I have on my computer, and not that you asked me to share it. But I’m going to anyways. 
> 
>  
> 
> Like I Can - Sam Smith What About Us - P!nk
> 
> Hold Back the River - James Bay Believe - Mumford and Sons
> 
> Should’ve Been Us - Tori Kelly I’ll Fight - Daughtry
> 
> All About Tonight - Pixie Lott Break Up in a Small Town - Sam Hunt
> 
> Ships In the Night - Matt Kearney Don’t Ever Let It End - Nickelback
> 
> Shape of You - Ed Sheeran Crawling Back to You - Daughtry
> 
> It Girl - Jason Derulo Marry me - Thomas Rhett
> 
> Good Old Days (feat Kesha) - Macklemore Waking Lions - Pop Evil
> 
> Bottoms Up - Brantley Gilbert Alone Together - Fall Out Boy
> 
> Follow - Breaking Benjamin Way Down We Go - Kaleo
> 
> Praying - Kesha Castle on the Hill - Ed Sheeran
> 
> In My Blood - Shawn Mendes Treat You Better - Boyce Avenue
> 
> Say You Won’t Let Go - James bay Hurt - Johnny Cash
> 
> The most important to me is the one that inspired this story. Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift literally sparked this story into existence with the lyrics: Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right / Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night
> 
> I’m in awe of all of you. Thank you for everything! If I made you like Muggle AU’s, I’m going to write another one after the summer fests! It will be similar to this emotionally, but different issues. 
> 
> Love, Kelsey.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Drowning To Find You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15428706) by [Bibliophilic_Wit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliophilic_Wit/pseuds/Bibliophilic_Wit)




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